WILLIAM  MACLEOD  RAINE 


OH,  YOU  TEX! 


TEXAS 


OH,  YOU   TEX! 


BY 

WILLIAM  MACLEOD  RAINE 

n 

AUTHOR  OF 

A   MAN    FOUR   SQUARE,  THE  SHERIFF'S  SON, 
THE  YUKON  TRAIL,  ETC. 


GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS  NEW     YORK 

Made  in  the  United  States  of  America 


IQIO,  BY  THE  STORY-PRESS  CORPORATION 
COPYRIGHT,  1930,  BY  WILLIAM  MACLEOD  RAXNB 

AW.  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


T0 

SAM  F.  DUNN 

OF  AMABILLO,  TEXAS 
INSPECTOR  OP  CATTLE  IN  THE  DAYS 

OF  THE  LONGHORN  DRIVES 
TO  WHOSE  EXPERIENCE  AND  GENEROUS 
I  AM  INDEBTED  FOR  AID  IN  THE 
PREPARATION  OF  THIS  BOOK 


913933 


CONTENTS 

I.  THE  LINE-RIDER      .......      3 

II.  "I'LL  BE  SEVENTEEN,  COMING  GRASS"    .      .    12 

III.  TEX  TAKES  AN  INTEREST 18 

IV.  TEX  GRANDSTANDS 26 

V.  CAPTAIN  ELLISON  HIRES  A  HAND       ...    38 

VI.  CLINT  WADLEY'S  MESSENGER     ....  44 

VII.  THE  DANCE 54 

VIII.  RUTHERFORD  MAKES  A  MISTAKE  ....  62 

IX.  MURDER  IN  THE  CHAPARRAL       ....  69 

X.  "A  DAMNED  POOR  APOLOGY  FOR  A  MAN"     .  75 

XI.  ONE  TO  FOUR  , 79 

XII.  TEX  REARRANGES  THE  SEATING    ....      89 

XIII.  "ONLY  ONE  MOB,  AIN'T  THERE  ?"     .      .      .99 

XIV.  JACK  SERVES  NOTICE 108 

XV.  A  CLOSE  SHAVE 113 

XVI.  WADLEY  GOES  HOME  IN  A  BUCKBOARD    .      .  122 

XVII.  OLD-TIMERS 132 

XVIII.  A  SHOT  OUT  OF  THE  NIGHT 138 

XIX.  TRAPPED 146 

XX.  KlOWAS  ON  THE  WARPATH 156 

XXI.  TEX  TAKES  A  LONG  WALK 166 

XXII.  THE  TEST 174 

XXIII.  A  SHY  YOUNG  MAN  DINES 179 

XXIV.  TEX  BORROWS  A  BLACKSNAKE     ....  184 
XXV.  "THEY'RE  RUNNIN'  ME  OUTA  TOWN"  .  191 


Contents 

XXVI.  FOR  PROFESSIONAL  SERVICES       .      • 

XXVII.  CLINT  FREES  HIS  MIND 203 

XXVIII.  ON  A  COLD  TRAIL 211 

XXIX.  BURNT  BRANDS c  219 

XXX.  ROGUES  DISAGREE 226 

XXXI.  A  PAIR  OF  DEUCES 237 

XXXII.  THE  HOLD-UP 245 

XXXIII.  THE  MAN  WITH  THE  YELLOW  STREAK      .  251 

XXXIV.  RAMONA  GOES  DUCK-HUNTING    .      .      .  258 
XXXV.  THE  DESERT 266 

XXXVI.  HOMER  DINSMORE  ESCORTS  RAMONA  .      .  272 

XXXVII.  ON  A  HOT  TRAIL 279 

XXXVIII.  DINSMORE  TO  THE  RESCUE    .  287 

XXXIX.  A  CRY  OUT  OF  THE  NIGHT     ....  292 

XL.  GURLEY'S  GET-AWAY 296 

XLI.  HOMING  HEARTS 302 

XLII.  A  DIFFERENCE  OF  OPINION  .      .      .      .310 

XLIIL  TEX  RESIGNS 319 

XLIV.  DINSMORE  GIVES  INFORMATION    .      .      .  328 

XLV.  RAMONA  DESERTS  HER  FATHER    ...  332 

XLVI.  LOOSE  THREADS  .  .  338 


OH,  YOU  TEX! 


OH,  YOU  TEX! 

•    • 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  LINE-RIDER 

DAT- was  breaking  in  the  Panhandle.  The  line- 
rider  finished  his  breakfast  of  buffalo-hump, 
eoffee,  and  biscuits.  He  had  eaten  heartily,  for 
it  would  be  long  after  sunset  before  he  touched 
food  again. 

Cheerfully  and  tunelessly  he  warbled  a  cow- 
boy ditty  as  he  packed  his  supplies  and  prepared 
to  go. 

"Oh,  it's  bacon  and  beans  most  every  day, 
I'd  as  lief  be  eatin'  prairie  hay." 

While  he  washed  his  dishes  in  the  fine  sand 
and  rinsed  them  in  the  current  of  the  creek  he 
announced  jocundly  to  a  young  world  glad  with 
spring: 

"I'll  sell  my  outfit  soon  as  I  can, 
Won't  punch  cattle  for  no  damn*  man." 

The  tin  cup  beat  time  against  the  tin  plate  to 
accompany  a  kind  of  shuffling  dance.  Jack  Rob- 
erts was  fifty  miles  from  nowhere,  alone  on  the 
desert,  but  the  warm  blood  of  youth  set  his  feet 
to  moving.  Why  should  he  not  dance?  He  was 
one  and  twenty,  stood  five  feet  eleven  in  his 


4  Oh,  You  Tex! 

socks,  and  weighed  one  hundred  and  seventy 
pounds  of  bone,  sinew,  and  well-packed  muscle. 
A  son  of  blue  skies  and  wide,  wind-swept  spaces, 
he  had  never  been  ill  in  his  life.  Wherefore  the 
sun-kissed  world  looked  good  to  him. 

He  mounted  a  horse  picketed  near  the  camp 
and  rode  out  to  a  remuda  of  seven  cow-ponies 
grazing  in  a  draw.  Of  these  he  roped  one  and 
brought  it  back  to  camp,  where  he  saddled  it  with 
deft  swiftness. 

The  line-rider  swung  to  the  saddle  and  put  his 
pony  at  a  jog-trot.  He  topped  a  hill  and  looked 
across  the  sunlit  mesas  which  rolled  in  long  swells 
far  as  the  eye  could  see.  The  desert  flowered 
gayly  with  the  purple,  pink,  and  scarlet  blos- 
soms of  the  cacti  and  with  the  white,  lilylike 
buds  of  the  Spanish  bayonet.  The  yucca  and 
the  prickly  pear  were  abloom.  He  swept  the 
panorama  with  trained  eyes.  In  the  distance  a 
little  bunch  of  antelope  was  moving  down  to 
water  in  single  file.  On  a  slope  two  miles  away 
grazed  a  small  herd  of  buffalo.  No  sign  of  human 
habitation  was  written  on  that  vast  solitude  of 
space. 

The  cowboy  swung  to  the  south  and  held  a 
steady  road  gait.  With  an  almost  uncanny  accu- 
racy he  recognized  all  signs  that  had  to  do  with 
cattle.  Though  cows,  half  hidden  in  the  brush, 
melted  into  the  color  of  the  hillside,  he  picked 
them  out  unerringly.  Brands,  at  a  distance  so 


Oh,  You  Tex!  5 

great  that  a  tenderfoot  could  have  made  of  them 
only  a  blur,  were  plain  as  a  primer  to  him. 

Cows  that  carried  on  their  flanks  the  A  T  O, 
ke  turned  and  started  northward.  As  he  re- 
turned, he  would  gather  up  these  strays  and 
drive  them  back  to  their  own  range.  For  in  those 
days,  before  the  barbed  wire  had  reached  Texas 
and  crisscrossed  it  with  boundary  lines,  the  cow- 
boy was  a  fence  more  mobile  than  the  wandering 
stock. 

It  was  past  noon  when  Roberts  dropped  into  a 
draw  where  an  immense  man  was  lying  sprawled 
under  a  bush.  The  recumbent  man  was  a  moun- 
tain of  flesh;  how  he  ever  climbed  to  a  saddle  was 
a  miracle;  how  a  little  cow-pony  carried  him  was 
another.  Yet  there  was  n*  better  line-rider  in  the 
Panhandle  than  Jumbo  Wilkins. 

"  'Lo,  Texas,"  the  fat  man  greeted. 

The  young  line-rider  had  won  the  nickname  of 
"Texas  "  in  New  Mexico  a  year  or  two  before  by 
his  aggressive  championship  of  his  native  State. 
Somehow  the  sobriquet  had  clung  to  him  even 
after  his  return  to  the  Panhandle. 

"'Lo,  Jumbo,"  returned  the  other.  "How?" 

"Fat  like  a  match.  I'm  sure  losin'  flesh.  Took 
up  another  notch  in  my  belt  yestiddy."* 

Roberts  shifted  in  the  saddle,  resting  his 
weight  on  the  horn  and  the  ball  of  one  foot  for 
ease.  He  was  a  slim,  brown  youth,  hard  as  nails 
and  tough  as  whipcord.  His  eyes  were  quick  and 


6  Oh,  You  Tex! 

wary.  In  spite  of  the  imps  of  mischief  that  just 
now  lighted  them,  one  got  an  impression  of 
strength.  He  might  or  might  not  be,  in  the  phrase 
of  the  country,  a  "bad  hombre,"  but  it  was  safe 
to  say  he  was  an  efficient  one. 

"Quick  consumption,  sure,"  pronounced  the 
younger  man  promptly.  "You  don't  look  to  me 
like  you  weigh  an  ounce  over  three  hundred  an' 
fifty  pounds.  Appetite  kind  o'  gone?" 

"You're  damn  whistlin'.  I  got  an  ailment,  I 
tell  you,  Tex.  This  mo'nin'  I  did  n't  eat  but  a  few 
slices  of  bacon  an'  some  liT  steaks  an'  a  pan  or 
two  o'  flapjacks  an'  mebbe  nine  or  ten  biscuitSo 
Afterward  I  felt  kind  o'  bloated  like.  I  need 
some  sa'saparilla.  Now,  if  I  could  make  out  to 
get  off  for  a  few  days  — " 

"You  could  get  tLat  sarsaparilla  across  the 
bar  at  the  Bird  Cage,  couldn't  you,  Jumbo?" 
the  boy  grinned. 

The  whale  of  a  man  looked  at  him  reproach- 
fully. "You  never  seen  me  shootin'  up  no  towns 
or  raisin'  hell  when  I  was  lit  up.  I  can  take  a 
drink  or  leave  it  alone." 

"That's  right  too.  Nobody  lets  it  alone  more 
than  you  do  when  it  can't  be  got.  I've  noticed 
that." 

"You  cayn't  devil  me,  boy.  I  was  punchin' 
longhorns  when  yore  mammy  was  paddlin'  you 
for  stealin'  the  sugar.  Say,  that  reminds  me.  I  'm 
plumb  out  o'  sugar.  Can  you  loan  me  some  till 


Oh,  You  Tex!  7 

Pedro  gits  around?  I  got  to  have  sugar  or  I  begin 
to  fall  off  right  away,"  the  big  man  whined. 
1  The  line-riders  chatted  casually  of  the  topics 
that  interest  men  in  the  land  of  wide,  empty 
frontiers.  Of  Indians  they  had  something  to  say, 
of  their  diminishing  grub  supply  more.  Jumbo 
mentioned  that  he  had  found  an  A  T  O  cow  dead 
by  a  water-hole.  They  spoke  incidentally  of  the 
Dinsmore  gang,  a  band  of  rustlers  operating  in 
No  Man's  Land.  They  had  little  news  of  people, 
since  neither  of  them  had  for  three  weeks  seen 
another  human  being  except  Quint  Sullivan,  the 
line-rider  who  fenced  the  A  T  O  cattle  to  the  east 
of  Roberts. 

Presently  Roberts  nodded  a  good-bye  and 
passed  again  into  the  solitude  of  empty  spaces. 
The  land-waves  swallowed  him.  Once  more  he 
followed  draws,  crossed  washes,  climbed  cow- 
backed  hills,  picking  up  drift-cattle  as  he  rode. 

It  was  late  afternoon  when  he  saw  a  thin  spiral 
of  smoke  from  a  rise  of  ground.  Smoke  meant 
that  some  human  being  was  abroad  in  the  land, 
and  every  man  on  the  range  called  for  investiga- 
tion. The  rider  moved  forward  to  reconnoiter. 

He  saw  a  man,  a  horse,  a  cow,  a  calf,  and  a  fire. 
When'  these  five  things  came  together,  it  meant 
that  somebody  was  branding.  The  present  busi- 
ness of  Roberts  was  to  find  out  what  brand  was  on 
the  cow  and  what  one  was  being  run  on  the  flank 
of  the  calf.  He  rode  forward  at  a  slow  canter. 


8  Oh,  You  Tex! 

The  man  beside  the  fire  straightened.  He  took 
@ff  his  hat  and  swept  it  in  front  of  him  in  a  semi- 
circle from  left  to  right.  The  line-rider  under- 
stood the  sign  language  of  the  plains.  He  was 
being  "waved  around."  The  man  was  serving  no- 
tice upon  him  to  pass  in  a  wide  circle.  It  meant 
that  the  dismounted  man  did  not  intend  to  let 
himself  be  recognized.  The  easy  deduction  was 
that  he  was  a  rustler. 

The  cowboy  rode  steadily  forward.  The  man 
beside  the  fire  picked  up  a  rifle  lying  at  his  feet 
and  dropped  a  bullet  a  few  yards  in  front  of  tbe 
advancing  man. 

Roberts  drew  to  a  halt.  He  was  armed  with  a 
six-shooter,  but  a  revolver  was  of  no  use  at  this 
distance.  For  a  moment  he  hesitated.  Another 
bullet  lifted  a  spurt  of  dust  almost  at  his  horse's 
feet. 

The  line-rider  waited  for  no  more  definite 
warning.  He  waved  a  hand  toward  the  rustler 
and  shouted  down  the  wind:  "Some  other  day." 
Quickly  he  swung  his  horse  to  the  left  and  van- 
ished into  an  arroyo.  Then,  without  an  instant's 
loss  of  time,  he  put  his  pony  swiftly  up  the  rV 
toward  a  "rim-rock"  edging  a  mesa.  Over  to  the 
right  was  Box  Canon,  which  led  to  the  rough 
lands  of  a  terrain  unknown  to  Roberts.  It  was  a 
three-to-one  chance  that  the  rustler  would  disap- 
pear into  the  canon. 

The  young  man  rode  fast,  putting  his  bronco 


Oh,  You  Tex!  9 

at  the  hills  with  a  rush.  He  was  in  a  treeless  coun- 
try, covered  with  polecat  brush.  Through  this  he 
plunged  recklessly,  taking  breaks  in  the  ground 
without  slackening  speed  in  the  least. 

Near  the  summit  of  the  rise  Roberts  swung 
from  the  saddle  and  ran  forward  through  the 
brush,  crouching  as  he  moved.  With  a  minimum 
of  noise  and  a  maximum  of  speed  he  negotiated 
the  thick  shrubbery  and  reached  the  gorge. 

He  crept  forward  cautiously  and  looked  down. 
Through  the  shin-oak  which  grew  thick  on  the 
edge  of  the  bluff  he  made  out  a  man  on  horse- 
back driving  a  calf.  The  mount  was  a  sorrel  with 
white  stockings  and  a  splash  of  white  on  the  nose. 
The  distance  was  too  great  for  Roberts  to  make 
out  the  features  of  the  rider  clearly,  though  he 
could  see  the  fellow  was  dark  and  slender. 

The  line-rider  watched  him  out  of  sight,  then 
slithered  down  the  face  of  the  bluff  to  the  sandy 
wash.  He  knelt  down  and  studied  intently  the 
hoof  prints  written  in  the  soil.  They  told  him  that 
the  left  hind  hoof  of  the  animal  was  broken  in  an 
odd  way. 

0/12ack  Roberts  clambered  up  the  steep  edge  of 
the  gulch  and  returned  to  the  cow-pony  waiting 
for  him  with  drooping  hip  and  sleepy  eyes. 

"Oh,  you  Two  Bits,  we'll  amble  along  and  see 
where  our  friend  is  headin'  for/% 

He  picked  a  way  down  into  the  canon  and  fol- 
lowed the  rustler.  At  the  head  of  the  gulch  the 


10  Oh,  You  Tex! 

man  on  the  sorrel  had  turned  to  the  left.  The 
cowboy  turned  also  in  that  direction.  A  sign  by 
the  side  of  the  trail  confronted  him. 

THIS  IS  PETE  DINSMORE'S  ROAD  — 
TAKE  ANOTHER 

"The  plot  sure  thickens,"  grinned  Jack* 
"Reckon  I  won't  take  Pete's  advice  to-day.  It 
don't  listen  good." 

He  spoke  aloud,  to  himself  or  to  his  horse  or  to 
the  empty  world  at  large,  as  lonely  riders  often 
do  on  the  plains  or  in  the  hills,  but  from  the 
heavens  above  an  answer  dropped  down  to  him 
in  a  heavy,  masterful  voice: 

"Git  back  along  that  trail  pronto!" 

Roberts  looked  up.  A  flat  rock  topped  the  bluff 
above.  From  the  edge  of  it  the  barrel  of  a  rifle 
projected.  Behind  it  was  a  face  masked  by  a 
bandana  handkerchief.  The  combination  was 
a  sinister  one. 

If  the  line-rider  was  dismayed  or  even  sur- 
prised, he  gave  no  evidence  of  it. 

"Just  as  you  say,  stranger.  I  reckon  you're 
callin'  this  dance,"  he  admitted. 

'You'll  be  lucky  if  you  don't  die  of  lead-poi^ 
sonin'  inside  o'  five  minutes.  No  funny  business! 
Git!" 

The  cowboy  got.  He  whirled  his  pony  in  its 
tracks  and  sent  it  jogging  down  the  back  trail.  A 
tenderfoot  would  have  taken  the  gulch  at  break- 


Oh,  You  Tex!  11 

neck  speed.  Most  old-timers  would  have  found  a 
canter  none  too  fast.  But  Jack  Roberts  held  to 
a  steady  road  gait.  Not  once  did  he  look  back  — 
but  every  foot  of  the  way  till  he  had  turned  a 
bend  in  the  canon  there  was  an  ache  in  the  small 
of  his  back.  It  was  a  purely  sympathetic  sensa- 
tion, for  at  any  moment  a  bullet  might  come 
crashing  between  the  shoulders. 

Once  safely  out  of  range  the  rider  mopped  a 
perspiring  face. 

"Wow!  This  is  your  lucky  day,  Jack.  Ain't 
you  got  better  sense  than  to  trail  rustlers  with  no 
weapon  but  a  Sunday-School  text?  Well,  here's 
hopin'!  Maybe  we'll  meet  again  in  the  sweet  by 
an'  by.  You  never  can  always  tell." 


CHAPTER  II 

"I'LL  BE  SEVENTEEN,  COMING  GRASS " 

THE  camper  looked  up  from  the  antelope  steak 
he  was  frying,  to  watch  a  man  cross  the  shallow 
creek.  In  the  clear  morning  light  of  the  South- 
west his  eyes  had  picked  the  rider  out  of  the  sur- 
rounding landscape  nearly  an  hour  before.  For 
at  least  one  fourth  of  the  time  since  this  discov- 
ery he  had  been  aware  that  his  approaching  vis- 
itor was  Pedro  Menendez,  of  the  A  T  O  ranch. 

"Better  'light,  son,"  suggested  Roberts. 

The  Mexican  flashed  a  white-toothed  smile  at 
the  sizzling  steak,  took  one  whiff  of  the  coffee 
and  slid  from  the  saddle.  Eating  was  one  of  the 
things  that  Pedro  did  best. 

"The  ol'  man  —  he  sen'  me,"  the  boy  ex- 
plained. "He  wan'  you  at  the  ranch." 

Further  explanation  waited  till  the  edge  of 
Pedro's  appetite  was  blunted.  The  line-rider 
lighted  a  cigarette  and  casually  asked  a  question, 

"Whyfor  does  he  want  me?" 

It  developed  that  the  Mexican  had  been  sent 
to  relieve  Roberts  because  the  latter  was  needed 
to  take  charge  of  a  trail  herd.  Not  by  the  flicker 
of  an  eyelash  [did  the  line-rider  show  that  this 
news  meant  anything  to  him.  It  was  promotion 
—  better  pay,  a  better  chance  for  advancement, 


Oh,  You  Tex!  13 

an  easier  life.  But  Jack  Roberts  had  learned  to 
take  good  and  ill  fortune  with  the  impassive  face 
of  a  gambler. 

"Keep  an  eye  out  for  rustlers,  Pedro,"  he  ad- 
vised before  he  left.  "You  want  to  watch  Box 
Canon.  Unless  I'm  'way  off,  the  Dinsmore  gang 
are  operatin'  through  it.  I  'most  caught  one  red- 
handed  the  other  day.  Lucky  for  me  I  did  n't. 
You  an'  Jumbo  would  'a'  had  to  bury  me  out  on 
the  lone  prairee." 

Nearly  ten  hours  later  Jack  Roberts  dis- 
mounted in  front  of  the  whitewashed  adobe 
house  that  was  the  headquarters  of  the  A  T  O 
ranch.  On  the  porch  an  old  cattleman  sat  slouched 
in  a  chair  tilted  back  against  the  wall,  a  rundown 
heel  of  his  boot  hitched  in  the  rung.  The  wrinkled 
coat  he  wore  hung  on  him  like  a  sack,  and  one 
leg  of  his  trousers  had  caught  at  the  top  of  the 
high  boot.  The  owner  of  the  A  T  O  was  a  heavy- 
set,  powerful  man  in  the  early  fifties.  Just  now  he 
was  smoking  a  corncob  pipe. 

The  keen  eyes  of  the  cattleman  watched  lazily 
the  young  line-rider  come  up  the  walk.  Most 
cowboys  walked  badly;  on  horseback  they  might 
be  kings  of  the  earth,  but  out  of  the  saddle  they 
rolled  like  sailors.  Clint  Wadley  noticed  that  the 
legs  of  this  young  fellow  were  straight  and  that 
he  trod  the  ground  lightly  as  a  buck  in  mating- 
season. 

"He'll  make  a  hand,"  was  Wadley's  verdict. 


14  Oh,  You  Tex! 

one  he  had  arrived  at  after  nearly  a  year  of 
shrewd  observation. 

But  no  evidence  of  satisfaction  in  his  employee 
showed  itself  in  the  greeting  of  the  "old  man." 
He  grunted  what  might  pass  for  "Howdy!"  if 
one  were  an  optimist. 

Roberts  explained  his  presence  by  saying; 
"You  sent  for  me,  Mr.  Wadley." 

"H'm!  That  durned  fool  York  done  bust  his 
laig.  Think  you  can  take  a  herd  up  the  trail  to 
Tascosa?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"That's  the  way  all  you  brash  young  colts 
talk.  But  how  many  of  'em  will  you  lose  on  the 
way?  How  sorry  will  they  look  when  you  deliver 
the  herd?  That's  what  I'd  like  to  know." 

Jack  Roberts  was  paying  no  attention  to  the 
grumbling  of  his  boss  —  for  a  young  girl  had 
come  out  of  the  house.  She  was  a  slim  little  thing, 
with  a  slender  throat  that  carried  the  small  head 
like  the  stem  of  a  rose.  Dark,  long-lashed  eyes, 
eager  and  bubbling  with  laughter,  were  fixed  on 
Wadley.  She  had  slipped  out  on  tiptoe  to  sur- 
prise him.  Her  soft  fingers  covered  his  eyes. 

"Guess  who!"  she  ordered. 

"Quit  yore  foolishness,"  growled  the  cattle- 
man. "Don't  you-all  see  I'm  talkin'  business?" 
But  the  line-rider  observed  that  his  arm  encir- 
cled the  waist  of  the  girl. 

With  a  flash  of  shy  eyes  the  girl  caught  sight 


Oh,  You  Tex!  15 

of  Roberts,  who  had  been  half  hidden  from  her 
behind  the  honeysuckle  foliage. 

"Oh!  I  did  n't  know,"  she  cried. 

The  owner  of  the  A  T  O  introduced  them. 
"This  is  Jack  Roberts,  one  of  my  trail  foremen. 
Roberts  —  my  daughter  Ramona.  I  reckon  you 
can  see  for  yoreself  she's  plumb  spoiled." 

A  soft  laugh  welled  from  the  throat  of  the  girl. 
She  knew  that  for  her  at  least  her  father  was  all 
bark  and  no  bite. 

"It's  you  that  is  spoiled,  Dad,"  she  said  in  the 
slow,  sweet  voice  of  the  South.  "I've  been  away 
too  long,  but  now  I'm  back  I  mean  to  bring  you 
up  right.  Now  I'll  leave  you  to  your  business." 

The  eyes  of  the  girl  rested  for  a  moment  on 
those  of  the  line-rider  as  she  nodded  good-bye. 
Jack  had  never  before  seen  Ramona  Wadley,  nor 
for  that  matter  had  he  seen  her  brother  Ruther- 
ford. Since  he  had  been  in  the  neighborhood,  both 
of  them  had  been  a  good  deal  of  the  time  in  Ten- 
nessee at  school,  and  Jack  did  not  come  to  the 
ranch-house  once  in  three  months.  It  was  hard 
to  believe  that  this  dainty  child  was  the  daughter 
of  such  a  battered  hulk  as  Clint  Wadley.  He  was 
what  the  wind  and  the  sun  and  the  tough  South- 
west had  made  him.  And  she  —  she  was  a  daugh- 
ter of  the  morning. 

But  Wadley  did  not  release  Ramona.  "Since 
you're  here  you  might  as  well  go  through  with 
it,"  he  said,  "What  do  you  want?" 


16  Oh,  You  Tex! 

"What  does  a  woman  always  want?"  she 
asked  sweetly,  and  then  answered  her  own  ques- 
tion. "Clothes  —  and  money  to  buy  them — • 
lots  of  it.  I'm  going  to  town  to-morrow,  you 
know." 

"H'm!"  His  grunt  was  half  a  chuckle,  half  a 
growl.  "Do  you  call  yoreself  a  woman  —  a  little 
bit  of  a  trick  like  you?  Why,  I  could  break  you 
in  two." 

She  drew  herself  up  very  straight.  "I'll  be 
seventeen,  coming  grass.  And  it's  much  more 
likely,  sir,  that  I'll  break  you  —  as  you'll  find 
out  when  the  bills  come  in  after  I've  been  to 
town." 

With  that  she  swung  on  her  heel  and  vanished 
inside  the  house. 

The  proud,  fond  eyes  of  the  cattleman  followed 
her.  It  was  an  easy  guess  that  she  was  the  apple 
of  his  eye. 

But  when  he  turned  to  business  again  his  man- 
ner was  gruffer  than  usual.  He  was  a  trifle  crisper 
to  balance  the  effect  of  his  new  foreman  having 
discovered  that  he  was  as  putty  in  the  hands  of 
this  slip  of  a  girl. 

"Well,  you  know  where  you're  at,  Roberts. 
Deliver  that  herd  without  any  loss  for  strays, 
fat,  an'  in  good  condition,  an'  you  won't  need  to 
go  back  to  line-ridin'.  Fall  down  on  the  job,  an* 
you'll  never  get  another  chance  to  drive  A  T  O 
eows." 


Oh,  You  Tex!  17 

"That's  all  I  ask,  Mr.  Wadley,"  the  cowboy 
answered.  "An'  much  obliged  for  the  chance." 

"Don't  thank  me.  Thank  York's  busted  laig," 
snapped  his  chief.  "We'll  make  the  gather  for 
the  drive  to-morrow  an'  Friday." 


CHAPTER 

TEX  TAKES  AN  INTEREST 

JACK  ROBERTS  was  in  two  minds  whether  to  stop 
at  the  Longhorn  saloon.  He  needed  a  cook  in 
his  trail  outfit,  and  the  most  likely  employment 
agency  in  Texas  during  that  decade  was  the  bar- 
room of  a  gambling-house.  Every  man  out  of  a 
job  naturally  drifted  to  the  only  place  of  enter- 
tainment. 

The  wandering  eye  of  the  foreman  decided  the 
matter  for  him.  It  fell  upon  a  horse,  and  instantly 
ceased  to  rove.  The  cow-pony  was  tied  to  a 
hitching-rack^worn  shiny  by  thousands  of  reins. 
On  the  nose  of  the  bronco  was  a  splash  of  white. 
Stockings  of  the  same  color  marked  its  legs.  The 
left  hind  hoof  was  gashed  and  broken. 

The  rider  communed  with  himself.  "I  reckon 
we'll  'light  and  take  an  interest,  Jack.  Them 
that  looks  for, 'finds." 

He  slid  from  the  saddle  and  rolled  a  cigarette, 
after  which  he  made  friends  with  the  sorrel  and 
examined  carefully  the  damaged  foot. 

"It's  a  HT  bit  of  a  world  after  all,"  he  com- 
mented. "You  never  can  tell  who  you're  liable 
to  meet  up  with."  The  foreman  drew  from  its 
scabbard  a  revolver  and  slid  it  back  into  place  to 
make  sure  that  it  lay  easy  in  its  case.  "You  can't 


Oh,  You  Tex!  19 

guess  for  sure  what 's  likely  to  happen.  I  'd  a  heap 
rather  be  too  cautious  than  have  flowers  sent  me." 

He  sauntered  through  the  open  door  into  the 
gambling-house.  It  was  a  large  hall,  in  the  front 
part  of  which  was  the  saloon.  In  the  back  the  side 
wall  to  the  next  building  had  been  ripped  out  to 
give  more  room.  There  was  a  space  for  dancing, 
as  well  as  roulette,  faro,  chuckaluck,  and  poker 
tables.  In  one  corner  a  raised  stand  for  the  musi- 
cians had  been  built. 

The  Longhorn  was  practically  deserted.  Not 
even  a  game  of  draw  was  in  progress.  The  dance- 
girls  were  making  up  for  lost  sleep,  and  the 
patrons  of  the  place  were  either  at  work  or  still 
in  bed. 

Three  men  were  lined  up  in  front  of  the  bar. 
One  was  a  tall,  lank  person,  hatchet-faced  and 
sallow.  He  had  a  cast  in  his  eye  that  gave  him  a 
sinister  expression.  The  second  was  slender  and 
trim,  black  of  hair  and  eye  and  mustache.  His 
clothes  were  very  good  and  up  to  date.  The  one 
farthest  from  the  door  was  a  heavy-set,  un- 
wieldy man  in  jeans,  slouchy  as  to  dress  and 
bearing.  Perhaps  it  was  the  jade  eyes  of  the  man 
that  made  Roberts  decide  instantly  he  was  one 
tough  citizen. 

The  line-rider  ordered  a  drink. 

"Hardware,  please,"  said  the  bartender  curtly. 

"Enforcin5  that  rule,  are  they?  "  asked  Roberts 
casually  as  his  eyes  swept  over  the  other  men. 


20  Oh,  You  Tex! 

"That's  whatever.  Y'betcha.  We  don't  want 
no  *gay  cowboys  shootin'  out  our  lights.  No  re- 
flections, y 'understand." 

The  latest  arrival  handed  over  his  revolver, 
and  the  man  behind  the  bar  hung  the  scabbard 
on  a  nail.  Half  a  dozen  others  were  on  a  shelf  be- 
side it.  For  the  custom  on  the  frontier  was  that 
each  rider  from  the  range  should  deposit  his 
weapons  at  the  first  saloon  he  entered.  They  were 
returned  to  him  when  he  called  for  them  just 
before  leaving  town.  This  tended  to  lessen  the 
number  of  sudden  deaths. 

"Who  you  ridin'  for,  young  fellow?"  asked 
the  sallow  man  of  Roberts. 

"For  the  A  T  O." 

The  dark  young  man  turned  and  looked  at  the 
cowboy. 

"So?  How  long  have  you  been  riding  for 
Wadley?" 

"Nine  months." 

"Don't  think  I've  seen  you  before." 

"I'm  a  line-rider  —  don't  often  get  to  the 
ranch-house." 

"What  ground  do  you  cover?" 

"From  Dry  Creek  to  the  rim-rock,  and  south 
past  Box  Canon." 

Three  pair  of  eyes  were  focused  watchfully  on 
Roberts.  The  sallow  man  squirted  tobacco  at  a 
knot  in  the  floor  and  rubbed  his  bristly  chin  with 
the  palm  of  a  hand. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  21 

"Kinda  lonesome  out  there,  ain't  it?"  he  ven- 
tured. 

"That's  as  how  you  take  it.  The  country  is 
filled  with  absentees,"  admitted  Roberts. 

"Reckoned  it  was.  Never  been  up  that  way 
myself.  A  sort  of  a  bad-lands  proposition, 
I  've  heard  tell  —  country  creased  with  arroyos, 
packed  with  rocks  an'  rattlesnakes  mostly." 

The  heavy-set  man  broke  in  harshly.  "Any- 
body else  run  cattle  there  except  old  man  Wad- 
ley?" 

"Settlers  are  comin'  in  on  the  other  side  of  the 
rim-rock.  Cattle  drift  across.  I  can  count  half  a 
dozen  brands  'most  any  day." 

"But  you  never  see  strangers." 

"Don't  I?" 

"I'm  askin',  do  you?"  The  voice  of  the  older 
man  was  heavy  and  dominant.  It  occurred  to 
Roberts  that  he  had  heard  that  voice  before. 

"Oh!"  Unholy  imps  of  mirth  lurked  in  the 
alert  eyes  of  the  line-rider.  "Once  in  a  while  I  do 
• —  last  Thursday,  for  instance." 

The  graceful,  dark  young  man  straightened  as 
does  a  private  called  to  attention.  "A  trapper, 
maybe?"  he  said. 

The  cowboy  brought  his  level  gaze  back  from 
a  barefoot  negro  washing  the  floor.  "Not  this 
time.  He  was  a  rustler." 

j    "How  do  you  know?"  The  high  voice  of  the 
questioner  betrayed  excitement. 


W  Oh,  You  Tex! 

"I  caught  him  brandin'  a  calf.  He  waved  me 
round.  I  beat  him  to  the  Box  Canon  and  saw  him 
ridin'  through." 

"You  saw  him  ridin'  through?  Where  were 
you?"  The  startled  eyes  of  the  dark  young  man 
were  fixed  on  him  imperiously. 

"From  the  bluff  above." 

"You  don't  say ! "  The  voice  of  the  heavy  man 
cut  in  with  jeering  irony.  The  gleam  of  his  jade 
eyes  came  through  narrow-slitted  lids.  "Well, 
did  you  take  him  back  to  the  ranch  for  a  necktie 
party,  or  did  you  bury  him  in  the  gulch?" 

The  dark  young  man  interrupted  irritably. 
"I'm  askin'  these  questions,  Dinsmore.  Now 
you,  young  fellow  —  what's  your  name?" 

"Jack  Roberts,"  answered  the  cowboy  meekly. 

"About  this  rustler  —  woulcj  you  know  him 
again?" 

The  line-rider  smiled  inscrutably.  He  did  not 
intend  to  tell  all  that  he  did  not  know.  "He 
was  ridin'  a  sorrel  with  a  white  splash  on  its 
nose,  white  stockin's,  an'  a  bad  hoof,  the  rear 
one—" 

"You're  a  damn'  liar."  The  words,  flung  out 
from  some  inner  compulsion,  as  it  were,  served 
both  as  a  confession  and  a  challenge. 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence,  tense  and 
ominous.  This  was  fighting  talk. 

The  lank  man  leaned  forward  and  whispered 
some  remonstrance  in  the  ear  of  the  young  fel- 


Oh,  You  Tex!  23 

low,  but  his  suggestion  was  waved  aside.  "I'm 
runnin'  this,  Gurley." 

The  rider  for  the  A  T  O  showed  neither  sur- 
prise nor  anger.  He  made  a  business  announce- 
ment without  stress  or  accent.  "I  expect  it's  you 
or  me  one  for  a  lickin'.  Hop  to  it,  Mr.  Rustler!" 

Roberts  did  not  wait  for  an  acceptance  of  his 
invitation.  He  knew  that  the  first  two  rules  of 
battle  are  to  strike  first  and  to  strike  hard.  His 
brown  fist  moved  forward  as  though  it  had  been 
shot  from  a  gun.  The  other  man  crashed  back 
against  the  wall  and  hung  there  dazed  for  a  mo- 
ment. The  knuckles  of  that  lean  fist  had  caught 
him  on  the  chin. 

"Give  him  hell,  Ford.  You  can  curry  a  KT 
shorthorn  like  this  guy  with  no  trouble  a-tall," 
urged  Dinsmore. 

The  [young  man  needed  no  urging.  He  gath- 
ered himself  together  and  plunged  forward.  Al- 
ways he  had  prided  himself  on  being  an  athlete. 
He  was  the  champion  boxer  of  the  small  town 
where  he  had  gone  to  school.  Since  he  had  re- 
turned to  the  West,  he  had  put  on  flesh  and 
muscle.  But  he  had  dissipated  a  good  deal  too, 
and  no  man  not  in  the  pink  of  condition  had  any 
right  to  stand  up  to  tough  Jack  Roberts. 

While  the  fight  lasted,  there  was  rapid  action. 
Roberts  hit  harder  and  cleaner,  but  the  other 
was  the  better  boxer.  He  lunged  and  sidestepped 
cleverly,  showing  good  foot-work  and  a  nice 


«*  Oh,  You  Tex! 

judgment  of  distance.  For  several  minutes  he 
peppered  the  line-rider  with  neat  hits.  Jack 
bored  in  for  more.  He  drove  a  straight  left  home 
and  closed  one  of  his  opponent's  eyes.  He 
smashed  through  the  defense  of  his  foe  with  a 
power  that  would  not  be  denied. 

"Keep  a-comin',  Ford.  You  shore  have  got 
him  goin'  south,"  encouraged  Gurley. 

But  the  man  he  called  Ford  knew  it  was  not 
true.  His  breath  was  coming  raggedly.  His  arms 
were  heavy  as  though  weighted  with  lead.  The 
science  upon  which  he  had  prided  himself  was 
of  no  use  against  this  man  of  steel.  Already  his 
head  was  singing  so  that  he  saw  hazily. 

The  finish  came  quickly.  The  cowboy  saw  his 
chance,  feinted  with  his  left  and  sent  a  heavy 
body  blow  to  the  heart.  The  knees  of  the  other 
sagged.  He  sank  down  and  did  not  try  to  rise 
again. 

Presently  his  companions  helped  him  to  his 
feet.  "He  — •  he  took  me  by  surprise,"  explained 
the  beaten  man  with  a  faint  attempt  at  bluster. 

"I'll  bet  I  did,"  assented  Jack  cheerfully. 
"An'  I'm  liable  to  surprise  you  again  if  you  call 
me  a  liar  a  second  time." 

"You've  said  about  enough,  my  friend,5* 
snarled  the  man  who  had  been  spoken  to  as  Dins- 
more.  "You  get  away  with  this  because  the  fight 
was  on  the  square,  but  don't  push  yore  luck  too 
far." 


Oh,  You  Tex!  25 

The  three  men  passed  out  of  the  front  door. 
Roberts  turned  to  the  barkeeper. 

"I  reckon  the  heavy-set  one  is  Pete  Dinsmore. 
The  cock-eyed  guy  must  be  Steve  Gurley.  But 
who  is  the  young  fellow  I  had  the  mixup  with?" 

The  man  behind  the  bar  gave  information 
promptly.  "He's  Rutherford  Wadley  —  son  of 
the  man  who  signs  yore  pay-checks.  Say,  I  heard 
Buck  Nelson  needs  a  mule-skinner,  in  case  you're 
lookin'  for  a  job." 

Jack  felt  a  sudden  sinking  of  the  heart.  He  had 
as  good  as  told  the  son  of  his  boss  that  he  was  a 
rustler,  and  on  top  of  that  he  had  given  him 
a  first-class  lacing.  The  air-castles  he  had  been 
building  came  tumbling  down  with  a  crash.  He 
had  already  dreamed  himself  from  a  trail  fore- 
man to  the  majordomo  of  the  A  T  O  ranch.  In- 
stead of  which  he  was  a  line-rider  out  of  a  job. 

"Where  can  I  find  Nelson?"  he  asked  with  a 
grin  that  found  no  echo  in  his  heart.  "Lead  ine 
to  him/' 


CHAPTER  IV 

TEX  GRANDSTANDS 

CUNT  WADLEY,  massive  and  powerful,  slouched 
back  in  his  chair  with  one  leg  thrown  over  an  arm 
of  it.  He  puffed  at  a  corncob  pipe,  and  through 
the  smoke  watched  narrowly  with  keen  eyes  from 
under  heavy  grizzled  brows  a  young  man  stand- 
ing on  the  porch  steps. 

"So  now  you  know  what  I  expect,  young  fel- 
low/' he  said  brusquely.  "Take  it  or  leave  it;  but 
if  you  take  it,  go  through." 

Arthur  Ridley  smiled.  "Thanks,  I'll  take  it.'* 

The  boy  was  not  so  much  at  ease  as  his  man- 
ner suggested.  He  knew  that  the  owner  of  the 
A  T  O  was  an  exacting  master.  The  old  cattle- 
man was  game  himself.  Even  now  he  would  fight 
at  the  drop  of  the  hat  if  necessary.  In  the  phrase 
which  he  had  just  used,  he  would  "go  through" 
anything  he  undertook.  Men  who  had  bucked 
blizzards  with  him  in  the  old  days  admitted  that 
Clint  would  do  to  take  along.  But  Ridley's  awe 
of  him  was  due  less  to  his  roughness  and  to  the 
big  place  he  filled  in  the  life  of  the  Panhandle 
than  to  the  fact  that  he  was  the  father  of  his 
daughter.  It  was  essential  to  Arthur's  plans  that 
he  stand  well  with  the  old-timer. 

Though  he  did  not  happen  to  know  it,  young 


Oh,  You  Tex!  27 

Ridley  was  a  favorite  of  the  cattle  king.  He  had 
been  wished  on  him  by  an  old  friend,  but  there 
was  something  friendly  and  genial  about  the  boy 
that  won  a  place  for  him.  His  smile  was  modest 
and  disarming,  and  his  frank  face  was  better  than 
any  letter  of  recommendation. 

But  though  Wadley  was  prepared  to  like  him, 
his  mind  held  its  reservations.  The  boy  had  come 
from  the  East,  and  the  standards  of  that  section 
are  not  those  of  the  West.  The  East  asks  of  a  man 
good  family,  pleasant  manners,  a  decent  reputa- 
tion, and  energy  enough  to  carry  a  man  to  suc- 
cess along  conventional  lines.  In  those  days  the 
frontier  West  demanded  first  that  a  man  be 
game,  and  second  that  he  be  one  to  tie  to.  He 
might  be  good  or  bad,  but  whichever  he  was,  he 
must  be  efficient  to  make  any  mark  in  the  turbu- 
lent country  of  the  border.  Was  there  a  hint  of 
slackness  in  the  jaw  of  this  good-looking  boy? 
Wadley  was  not  sure,  but  he  intended  to  find 
out. 

"You'll  start  Saturday.  I'll  meet  you  at  Tas- 
cosa  two  weeks  from  to-day.  Understand?"  The 
cattleman  knocked  the  ashes  from  his  pipe  and 
rose.  The  interview  was  at  an  end. 

Young  Ridley  nodded.  "I'll  be  there,  sir  — 
with  the  six  thousand  dollars  safe  as  if  they  were 
in  a  vault." 

"H'm!  I  see  you  carry  a  six-shooter.  Can  you 
shoot?"  Wadley  flung  at  him  abruptly. 


28  Oh,  You  Tex! 

Arthur  Ridley  had  always  fancied  himself  as  a 
shot.  He  had  belonged  to  a  gun-club  at  home, 
and  since  coming  to  the  Southwest  he  had  prac- 
ticed a  good  deal  with  the  revolver. 

"Pretty  well,  sir." 

"Would  you  —  if  it  was  up  to  you?" 

The  youngster  looked  into  the  steel-gray  eyes 
roofed  by  the  heavy  thatch  of  brow.  "I  think  so. 
I  never  have  had  to  yet.  In  the  East  — " 

Wadley  waved  the  East  back  to  where  it  be- 
longed. "Yes,  I  know.  But  we're  talkin'  about 
Texas.  Still,  I  reckon  you  ought  not  to  have  any 
trouble  on  this  trip.  Don't  let  anybody  know 
why  you  are  at  the  fort.  Don't  gamble  or  drink. 
Get  the  money  from  Major  Ponsford  and  melt 
away  inconspicuous  into  the  brush.  Hit  the  trail 
hard.  A  day  and  a  night  ought  to  bring  you  to 
Tascosa." 

The  cattleman  was  leading  the  way  with  long 
strides  into  an  open  space  back  of  the  house.  A 
pile  of  empty  cans,  symbol  of  the  arid  lands,  lay 
beside  the  path.  He  picked  up  one  and  put  it  on 
a  post.  Then  he  stepped  off  fifteen  paces. 

"Ventilate  it,"  he  ordered. 

The  boy  drew  his  revolver,  took  a  long,  steady 
aim,  and  fired.  The  bullet  whistled  past  across 
the  prairie.  His  second  shot  scored  a  clean  hit. 
With  pardonable  pride  he  turned  to  the  cattle- 
man. 

"Set  up  another  can,"  commanded  Wadley » 


Oh,  You  Tex!  29 

From  the  pile  of  empties  the  young  man 
picked  another  and  put  it  on  the  post.  Wadley, 
known  in  Texas  as  a  two-gun  man,  flashed  into 
sight  a  pair  of  revolvers  almost  quicker  than  the 
eye  could  follow.  Both  shots  came  instantly  and 
together.  The  cattleman  had  fired  from  the  hips. 
Before  the  can  had  reached  the  ground  the 
weapons  barked  again. 

Ridley  ran  forward  and  picked  up  the  can.  It 
was  torn  and  twisted  with  jagged  holes,  but  the 
evidence  was  written  there  that  all  four  bullets 
had  pierced  the  tin.  The  Easterner  could  hardly 
believe  his  eyes.  Such  shooting  was  almost  be- 
yond human  skill. 

The  owner  of  the  A  T  O  thrust  into  place  his 
two  forty-fives. 

"If  you're  goin'  to  wear  six-shooters,  learn  to 
use  'em,  son.  If  you  don't,  some  bad  -man  is  lia- 
ble to  bump  you  off  for  practice." 

As  the  two  men  stepped  around  the  corner  of 
the  house  a  girl  came  down  the  steps  of  the 
porch.  She  was  dressed  in  summer  white,  but  she 
herself  was  spring.  Slim  and  lissome,  the  dew  of 
childhood  was  still  on  her  lips,  and  the  mist  of  it 
in  her  eyes.  But  when  she  slanted  her  long  lashes 
toward  Arthur  Ridley,  it  was  not  the  child  that 
peeped  shyly  and  eagerly  out  from  beneath  them. 
Her  heart  was  answering  the  world-old  call  of 
youth  to  youth. 

"I'm  going  downtown,  Dad,"  she  announced. 


ro  Oh,  You  Tex! 

Ridley  stepped  forward  and  lifted  his  hat. 
<cMay  I  walk  with  you,  Miss  Ramona?" 
/  "Stop  at  the  post-office  and  see  if  the  buck- 
board  driver  is  in  with  the  mail,  'Mona,"  her 
father  said. 

The  boy  and  the  girl  made  a  couple  to  catch 
and  hold  the  eye. 

They  went  down  the  street  together  chattering 
gayly.  One  of  the  things  young  Ridley  knew  how 
to  do  well  was  to  make  himself  agreeable  to  girls. 
He  could  talk  nonsense  charmingly  and  could 
kold  his  own  in  the  jolly  give-and-take  of  re- 
partee. His  good  looks  were  a  help.  So  too  was 
the  little  touch  of  affectionate  deference  he  used. 
He  had  the  gift  of  being  bold  without  being  too 
bold. 

It  was  a  beautiful  morning  and  life  sang  in  the 
blood  of  Ramona.  It  seemed  to  her  companion 
that  the  warm  sun  caressed  the  little  curls  at  her 
temples  as  she  moved  down  the  street  light  as  a 
deer.  Little  jets  of  laughter  bubbled  from  her 
round,  birdlike  throat.  In  her  freshly  starched 
white  dress,  with  its  broad  waistband  of  red  and 
purple  ribbon,  the  girl  was  sweet  and  lovely  and 
full  of  mystery  to  Ridley. 

A  little  man  with  a  goatee,  hawk-nosed  and 
hawk-eyed,  came  down  the  street  with  jingling 
spurs  to  meet  them.  At  sight  of  Ramona  his  eyes 
lighted.  From  his  well-shaped  gray  head  he  swept 
in  a  bow  a  jaunty,  broad-brimmed  white  hat. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  31 

The  young  girl  smiled,  because  there  were  still 
a'million  unspent  smiles  in  her  warm  and  friendly 
heart. 

"Good-morning,  Captain  Ellison,"  she  called. 

"Don't  know  you  a-tall,  ma'am."  He  shook 
his  head  with  decision.  "Never  met  up  with  you 
before." 

"Good  gracious,  Captain,  and  you've  fed  me 
candy  ever  since  I  was  a  sticky  little  kid." 

He  burlesqued  a  business  of  recognizing  her 
with  much  astonishment.  "You  ain't  little 
'Mona  Wadley.  No!  Why,  you  are  a  young 
lady  all  dressed  up  in  go-to-meet-him  clothes. 
I  reckon  my  little  side-partner  has  gone  for- 


ever." 


"No,  she  hasn't,  Uncle  Jim,"  the  girl  cried. 
"And  I  want  you  to  know  I  still  like  candy." 

He  laughed  with  delight  and  slapped  his  thigh 
with  his  broad-brimmed  ranger  hat.  "By  dog, 
you  get  it,  'Mona,  sure  as  I'm  a  foot  high." 

Chuckling,  he  passed  down  the  street. 

"Captain  Jim  Ellison  of  the  Rangers,"  ex- 
plained Ramona  to  her  companion.  "He  isn't 
really  my  uncle,  but  I've  known  him  always. 
He's  a  good  old  thing  and  we're  great  friends." 

Her  soft,  smiling  eyes  met  those  of  Arthur.  He 
thought  that  it  was  no  merit  in  Ellison  to  be  fond 
of  her.  How  could  he  help  it? 

"He's  in  luck,"  was  all  the  boy  said. 

A  little  flag  of  color  fluttered  in  her  cheek.  She 


88  Oh,  You  Tex! 

liked  his  compliments,  but  they  "embarrassed  her 
a  little. 

"Did  you  fix  it  all  up  with  Dad?"  she  asked, 
by  way  of  changing  the  subject. 

"Yes.  I'm  to  go  to  Fort  Winston  to  get  the 
money  for  the  beeves,  and  if  I  fall  down  on  the 
job  I'll  never  get  another  from  him." 

"I  believe  you're  afraid  of  Dad,"  she  teased. 

"  Don't  you  believe  it  —  know  it.  I  sure  enough 
am,"  he  admitted  promptly. 

"Why?  I  can  twist  him  round  my  little  fin- 
ger," she  boasted. 

"Yes,  but  I'm  not  his  only  daughter  and  the 
prettiest  thing  in  West^Texas." 

She  laughed  shyly.  "Are  you  sure  you're  tak- 
ing in  enough  territory?" 

"I'll  say  south  of  Mason  and  Dixon's  line,  if 
you  like." 

"Really,  he  likes  you.  I  can  tell  when  Dad  is 
for  any  one." 

A  sound  had  for  some  minutes  been  disturbing 
the  calm  peace  of  the  morning.  It  was  the  bawl- 
ing of  thirsty  cattle.  The  young  people  turned  a 
corner  into  the  main  street  of  the  town.  Down  it 
was  moving  toward  them  a  cloud  of  yellow  dust 
stirred  up  by  a  bunch  of  Texas  longhorns.  The 
call  of  the  cattle  for  drink  was  insistent.  Above  it 
rose  an  occasional  sharp  "Yip  yip!"  of  a  cowboy. 

Ramona  stopped,  aghast.  The  cattle  blocked 
the  road,  their  moving  backs  like  the  waves  of  a 


Oh,  You  Tex!  33 

sea.  The  dust  would  irreparably  soil  the  clean 
frock  fresh  from  the  hands  of  her  black  mammy. 
She  made  as  if  to  turn,  and  knew  with  a  flash  of 
horror  that  it  was  too  late. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  gleam  of  scarlet  in  her  sash 
that  caught  the  eye  of  the  bull  leading  the  van. 
It  gave  a  bellow  of  rage,  lowered  its  head,  and 
dashed  at  her. 

Ramona  gave  a  horror-stricken  little  cry  of 
fear  and  stood  motionless.  She  could  not  run.  The 
fascination  of  terror  held  her  paralyzed.  Her 
heart  died  away  in  her  while  the  great  brute 
thundered  toward  her. 

Out  of  the  dust-cloud  came  a  horse  and  rider 
in  the  wake  of  the  bull.  Frozen  in  her  tracks, 
Ramona  saw  with  dilated  eyes  all  that  followed. 
The  galloping  horse  gained,  was  at  the  heels  of 
the  maddened  animal,  drew  up  side  by  side.  It 
seemed  to  the  girl  that  in  another  moment  she 
must  be  trampled  underfoot.  Nothing  but  a  mir- 
acle from  God's  blue  could  save  her. 

For  what  registered  as  time  without  end  to  the 
girl's  fear-numbed  brain,  horse  and  bull  raced 
knee  to  knee.  Then  the  miracle  came.  The  rider 
leaned  far  out  from  the  saddle,  loosened  his  feet 
from  the  stirrups,  and  launched  himself  at  the 
crazed  half -ton  of  charging  fury. 

His  hands  gripped  the  horns  of  the  bull.  He 
was  dragged  from  the  saddle  into  the  dust,  but 
his  weight  deflected  the  course  of  the  animal. 


34  Oh,  You  Tex! 

With  every  ounce  of  strength  given  by  his  rough 
life  in  the  open  the  cowboy  hung  on,  dragging 
the  head  of  the  bull  down  with  him  toward  the 
ground.  Man  and  beast  came  to  a  slithering  halt 
together  in  a  great  cloud  of  dust  not  ten  feet 
from  Ramona. 

Even  now  terror  held  her  a  prisoner.  The  brute 
would  free  itself  and  stamp  the  man  to  death.  A 
haze  gathered  before  her  eyes.  She  swayed,  then 
steadied  herself.  Man  and  bull  were  fighting  des- 
perately, one  with  sheer  strength,  the  other  with 
strength  plus  brains  and  skill.  The  object  of  ;the 
animal  was  to  free  itself.  The  bull  tossed  wildly 
in  frantic  rage  to  shake  off  this  incubus  that  had 
fastened  itself  to  its  horns.  The  man  hung  on  for 
life.  All  his  power  and  weight  were  centered  in  an 
effort  to  twist  the  head  of  the  bull  sideways  and 
back.  Slowly,  inch  by  inch,  by  the  steady,  insist- 
ent pressure  of  muscles  as  well  packed  as  any  in 
Texas,  the  man  began  to  gain.  The  bull  no  longer 
tossed  and  flung  him  at  will.  The  big  roan  head 
went  down,  turned  backward,  yielded  to  the 
pressure  on  the  neck-muscles  that  never  relaxed. 

The  man  put  at  the  decisive  moment  his  last 
ounce  of  strength  into  one  last  twist.  The  bull 
collapsed,  went  down  heavily  to  its  side. 

A  second  cowboy  rode  up,  roped  the  bull,  and 
deftly  hogtied  it. 

The  bulldogger  rose  and  limped  forward  to  the 
girl  leaning  whitely  against  a  wall. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  35 

"Sorry,  Miss  Wadley.  I  had  n't  ought  to  have 
brought  the  herd  through  town.  tWe  was  driyin' 
to  water." 

"Are  you  hurt?"  Ramona  heard  her  dry,  faint 
voice  ask. 

"Me!"  he  said  in  surprise.  "Why,  no,  ma'am." 

He  was  a  tall,  lean  youth,  sunburned  and 
tough,  with  a  face  that  looked  sardonic.  Ramona 
recognized  him  now  as  her  father's  new  foreman, 
the  man  she  had  been  introduced  to  a  few  days 
before.  Hard  on  that  memory  came  another.  It 
was  this  same  Jack  Roberts  who  had  taken  her 
brother  by  surprise  and  beaten  him  so  cruelly 
only  yesterday. 

"It  threw  you  around  so,"  she  murmured. 

"Sho!  I  reckon  I  can  curry  a  KT  ol'  longhorn 
when  I  have  it  to  do,  ma'am,"  he  answered,  a  bit 
embarrassed. 

"Are  —  are  you  hurt?"  another  voice  qua- 
vered. 

With  a  pang  of  pain  Ramona  remembered 
Arthur  Ridley.  Where  iiad  he  been  when  she  so 
desperately  needed  help? 

"No.  Mr.  Roberts  saved  me."  She  did  not  look 
at  Ridley.  A  queer  feeling  of  shame  for  him  made 
her  keep  her  eyes  averted. 

"I  —  went  to  get  help  for  you,"  the  boy  ex- 
plained feebly. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said. 

The  girl  was  miserably  unhappy.  For  the  boy 


36  Oh,  You  Texl 

to  whom  she  had  given  the  largesse  of  her  friend- 
ship had  fled  in  panic;  the  one  she  hated  for 
bullying  and  mistreating  her  brother  had  flung 
himself  in  the  path  of  the  furious  bull  to  save 
her. 

Captain  Ellison  came  running  up.  He  bristled 
at  the  trail  foreman  like  a  bantam.  "What  do 
you  mean  by  drivin'  these  wild  critters  through 
town?  Ain't  you  got  a  lick  o'  sense  a-tall?  If  any- 
thing had  happened  to  this  little  girl  — " 

The  Ranger  left  his  threat  suspended  in  midair. 
His  arms  were  round  Ramona,  who  was  sobbing 
into  his  coat. 

The  red-headed  foreman  shifted  his  weight 
from  one  foot  to  another.  He  was  acutely  un- 
comfortable at  having  made  this  young  woman 
weep.  "I  ain't  got  a  word  to  say,  Captain.  It  was 
plumb  thoughtless  of  me,"  he  apologized. 

"You  come  to  my  office  this  mo'nin'  at  twelve 
o'clock,  young  fellow.  Hear  me?  I've  got  a  word 
to  say  to  you." 

"Yes,"  agreed  the  bulldogger  humbly.  "I 
did  n't  go  for  to  scare  the  young  lady.  Will  you 
tell  her  I'm  right  sorry,  Captain?" 

"You  eat  yore  own  humble  pie.  You've  got  a 
tongue,  I  reckon,"  snorted  Ellison,  dragging  at 
his  goatee  fiercely. 

The  complexion  of  Roberts  matched  his  hair. 
"I  —  I  —  I'm  turrible  sorry,  miss.  I'd  ought  to 
be  rode  on  a  rail." 


Oh,  You  Tex!  37 

With  which  the  range-rider  turned,  swung  to 
the  saddle  of  his  pony  without  touching  the 
stirrups,  and  fairly  bolted  down  the  street  after 
his  retreating  herd* 


CHAPTER  V 

/CAPTAIN  ELLISON  HIRES  A  HAND 

CAPTAIN  ELLISON  was  preparing  for  the  Adju* 
tant-General  a  report  of  a  little  affair  during 
which  one  of  his  men  had  been  obliged  to  snuff 
out  the  lives  of  a  couple  of  Mexican  horsethieves 
and  seriously  damage  a  third.  Writing  was  la- 
borious work  for  the  Captain  of  Rangers,  though 
he  told  no  varnished  tale.  His  head  and  shoulders 
were  hunched  over  the  table  and  his  finger-tips 
were  cramped  close  to  the  point  of  the  pen.  Each 
letter  as  it  was  set  down  had  its  whispered  echo 
from  his  pursed  lips. 

"Doggone  these  here  reports/5  he  commented 
in  exasperation.  "Looks  like  a  man  had  n't  ought 
to  make  out  one  every  time  he  bumps  off  a  rus- 
tler." 

He  tugged  at  his  goatee  and  read  again  what 
he  had  just  written: 

Then  this  Jose  Barela  and  his  gang  of  skoundrels  struck 
out  for  the  Brazos  with  the  stolen  stock.  Ranger  Cullom 
trailed  them  to  Goose  Creek  and  recovered  the  cattle. 
While  resisting  arrest  Barela  and  another  Mexican  were 
killed  and  a  third  wounded.  Cullom  brought  back  the 
wounded  man  and  the  rustled  stock. 

A  short  noontime  shadow  darkened  the  sunny 
doorway  of  the  'adobe  office.  Ellison  looked  up 


Oh,  You  Tex!  39 

quickly,  his  hand  falling  naturally  to  the  handle 
of  his  forty-five.  Among  the  Rangers  the  price  of 
life  was  vigilance.  A  tall,  lean,  young  man  with 
a  sardonic  eye  and  a  sunburned  face  jingled  up 
the  steps. 

"Come  in,"  snapped  the  Captain.  "Sit  down. 
With  you  in  a  minute." 

The  cowboy  lounged  in,  very  much  at  his  ease. 
Roberts  had  been  embarrassed  before  Ramona 
Wadley  that  morning,  but  he  was  not  in  the 
least  self-conscious  now.  In  the  course  of  a  short 
and  turbid  life  he  had  looked  too  many  tough 
characters  in  the  eye  to  let  any  mere  man  disturb 
his  poise. 

"  Do  you  spell  scoundrel  with  a  Jc?  "  the  Ranger 
chief  fired  abruptly  at  him. 

"Nary  a  k,  Captain.  I  spell  it  b-a-d  m-a-n." 

"H'mp!"  snorted  the  little  man.  "Ain't  you 
got  no  education?  A  man 's  got  to  use  a  syllogism 
oncet  in  a  while,  I  reckon." 

"Mebbeso.  What  kind  of  a  gun  is  it?" 
drawled  Jack  Roberts. 

"A  syllogism  is  a  word  meanin'  the  same  as 
another  word,  like  as  if  I  was  to  say  caballo  for 
horse  or  six-shooter  for  revolver" 

"I  see  —  or  tough  guy  for  Texas  ranger." 

"Or  durn  fool  for  Jack  Roberts,"  countered 
Ellison  promptly.  • 

"Now  you're  shoutin',  Cap.  Stomp  on  me 
proper.  I  certainly  need  to  be  curried." 


40  Oh,  You  Tex! 

Again  the  Ranger  snorted.  "H'mp!  Been 
scar  in'  any  more  young  ladies  to  death?" 

"No  more  this  mo'nin',  Captain,"  answered 
Jack  equably. 

"Nor  grandstandin'  with  any  more  ladino 
steers?" 

"I  exhibit  only  once  a  day." 

"By  dog,  you  give  a  sure-enough  good  show," 
exploded  Ellison.  "You  got  yore  nerve,  boy. 
Wait  around  till  the  prettiest  girl  in  Texas  can 
see  you  pull  off  the  big  play  —  run  the  risk  of 
havin'  her  trampled  to  death,  just  so's  you  can 
grin  an'  say,  'Pleased  to  meet  you,  ma'am.' 
When  I  call  you  durn  fool,  I  realize  it's  too  weak 


a  name." 


"Hop  to  it,  Captain.  Use  up  some  real  lan- 
guage on  me.  Spill  out  a  lot  of  those  syllogisms 
you  got  bottled  up  inside  you.  I  got  it  conain'," 
admitted  Roberts  genially  as  he  rolled  a  cigar- 
ette. 

The  Captain  had  been  a  mule-skinner  once, 
and  for  five  glorious  minutes  he  did  himself 
proud  while  the  graceless  young  cow-puncher 
beamed  on  him. 

"You  sure  go  some,  Cap,"  applauded  the 
young  fellow.  "I'd  admire  to  have  your  flow  of 
talk." 

Ellison  subsided  into  anticlimax.  "Well,  don't 
you  ever  drive  yore  wild  hill-critters  through 
town  again.  Hear  me,  young  fellow?" 


Oh,  You  Tex!  41 

"You'll  have  to  speak  to  Wadley  about  that. 
I'm  not  his  trail  boss  any  longer." 

"Since  when?" 

"Since  five  o'clock  yesterday  evenin'.  I  was 
turnin'  over  the  herd  this  mo'nin'  when  the  little 
lady  showed  up  an'  I  had  to  pull  off  the  bull- 
doggin'." 

"Wadley  fire  you?" 

"That's  whatever." 

"Why?" 

"Did  n't  like  the  way  I  mussed  up  son  Ruther- 
ford, I  kind  o'  gathered." 

"Another  of  yore  fool  plays.  First  you  beat  up 
Wadley 's  boy;  then  you  'most  massacree  his 
daughter.  Anything  more?" 

"That's  all  up  to  date  —  except  that  the  old 
man  hinted  I  was  a  brand-burner." 

"The  deuce  he  did!" 

"I  judge  that  son  Rutherford  had  told  him  I 
was  one  of  the  Dinsmore  gang.  Seems  I'm  all 
right  except  for  bein'  a  rowdy  an'  a  bully  an'  a 
thief  an'  a  bad  egg  generally." 

"H'mp!  Said  you  was  a  rustler,  did  he?"  The 
Ranger  caressed  his  goatee  and  reflected  on  this 
before  he  pumped  a  question  at  the  line-rider. 
"Are  you?" 

"No  more  than  Rutherford  Wadley." 

The  Captain  shot  a  swift  slant  look  at  this 
imperturbable  young  man.  Was  there  a  hidden 
meaning  in  that  answer? 


42  Oh,  You  Tex! 

"What's  the  matter  with  Wadley?  Does  he 
expect  you  to  let  Ford  run  it  over  you?  That 
ain't  like  Clint." 

"He's  likely  listened  to  a  pack  o'  lies." 

"And  you  have  n't  heard  from  him  since?" 

>(  Yes,  I  have.  He  sent  me  my  check  an'  a  hun- 
dred-dollar bill." 

Ellison  sat  up.  "What  for?" 

"For  my  fancy  bulldoggin'."  The  hard  eyes  of 
the  young  fellow  smouldered  with  resentment. 

"By  dog,  did  Clint  send  you  money  for  savin* 
'Mona?" 

"He  did  n't  say  what  it  was  for  —  so  I  rolled 
up  the  bill  an'  lit  a  cigarette  with  it." 

"You  take  expensive  smokes,  young  man," 
chuckled  the  officer. 

"It  was  on  Wadley.  I  burned  only  half  the  bill. 
He  can  cash  in  the  other  half,  for  I  sent  it  back  to 
him.  When  he  got  it,  he  sent  for  me." 

"And  you  went?" 

"You  know  damn  well  I  didn't.  When  he 
wants  me,  he  knows  where  to  find  me." 

"Most  young  hill-billies  step  when  Clint  tells 
'em  to." 

"  Do  they?  "  asked  the  range-rider  indifferently. 

"You  bet  you.  They  jump  when  he  whistles. 
What  are  you  figurin'  to  do?" 
l"Have  n't  made  up  my  mind  yet.  Mebbe  I'll 
drift  along  the  trail  to  the  Pecos  country." 

"What  was  Clint  payin'  you?" 


Oh,  You  Tex!  43 

"Sixty  a  month  an'  found." 

"How'd  you  like  to  have  yore  wages  low- 
ered?" 

"Meanin'—  " 

"That  I'll  give  you  a  job." 

Young  Roberts  had  a  capacity  for  silence.  He 
asked  no  questions  now,  but  waited  for  Ellison 
to  develop  the  situation. 

"With  the  Rangers.  Dollar  a  day  an'  furnish 
yore  own  bronc,"  explained  the  Captain. 

"The  State  of  Texas  is  liberal,"  said  the  cow- 
boy with  dry  sarcasm. 

"That's  as  you  look  at  it.  If  you're  a  money- 
grubber,  don't  join  us.  But  if  you  'd  like  to  be  one 
of  the  finest  fightin'  force  in  the  world  with  some- 
thin'  doin'  every  minute,  then  you'd  better  sign 
up.  I'll  promise  that  you  die  young  an'  not  in 
yore  bed." 

"Sounds  right  attractive,"  jeered  the  red- 
haired  youngster  with  amiable  irony. 

3"  It  is,  for  men  with  red  blood  in  'em,"  re- 
torted the  gray-haired  fire-eater  hotly. 

"All  right.  I'll  take  your  word  for  it,  Captain. 
You've  hired  a  hand." 


CHAPTER  VI 

CLINT  WADLEY'S  MESSENGER 

OUTSIDE  the  door  of  the  commandant's  office 
Arthur  Ridley  stood  for  a  moment  and  glanced 
nervously  up  and  down  the  dirt  road.  In  a  hog- 
leather  belt  around  his  waist  was  six  thousand 
dollars  just  turned  over  to  him  by  Major  Pons- 
f ord  as  the  last  payment  for  beef  steers  delivered 
at  the  fort  according  to  contract  some  weeks 
earlier. 

Arthur  had  decided  not  to  start  on  the  return 
journey  until  next  morning,  but  he  was  not  sure 
his  judgment  had  been  good.  It  was  still  early 
afternoon.  Before  nightfall  he  might  be  thirty 
miles  on  his  way.  The  trouble  with  that  was  that 
he  would  then  have  to  spend  two  nights  out,  and 
the  long  hours  of  darkness  with  their  flickering 
shadows  cast  by  the  camp-fires  would  be  full  of 
torture  for  him.  On  the  other  hand,  if  he  should 
stay  till  morning,  word  might  leak  out  from  the 
officers'  quarters  that  he  was  carrying  a  large 
sum  of  money. 

A  drunken  man  came  weaving  down  the  street. 
He  stopped  opposite  Ridley  and  balanced  him- 
self with  the  careful  dignity  of  the  inebriate.  But 
the  gray  eyes,  hard  as  those  of  a  gunman,  showed 
no  trace  of  intoxication .  Nor  did  the  steady  voice. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  45 

"Friend,  are  you  Clint  Wadley's  messenger?" 

The  startled  face  of  Ridley  flew  a  flag  of  con- 
fession. "Why  --  what  do  you  mean?"  he  stam- 
mered. Nobody  was  to  have  known  that  he  had 
come  to  get  the  money  for  the  owner  of  the 
A  TO. 

"None  of  my  business,  you  mean,"  flung  back 
the  man  curtly.  "Good  enough!  It  ain't.  What's 
more,  I  don't  give  a  damn.  But  listen:  I  was  at 
the  Buffalo  Hump  when  two  fellows  came  in. 
Me,  I  was  most  asleep,  and  they  sat  in  the  booth 
next  to  me.  I  did  n't  hear  all  they  said,  but  I  got 
this  —  that  they're  aimin'  to  hold  up  some  mes- 
senger of  Clint  Wadley  after  he  leaves  town  to- 
morrow. You're  the  man,  I  reckon.  All  right. 
Look  out  for  yourself.  That's  all." 

"But  —  what  shall  I  do?"  asked  Ridley. 

"Do?  I  don't  care.  I'm  tellin'  you  —  see?  Do 
as  you  please." 

"What  would  you  do?"  The  danger  and  the 
responsibility  that  had  fallen  upon  him  out  of  a 
sky  of  sunshine  paralyzed  the  young  man's  in- 
itiative. 

The  deep-set,  flinty  eyes  narrowed  to  slits. 
"What  I'd  do  ain't  necessarily  what  you'd  bet- 
ter do.  What  are  you,  stranger  —  high-grade 
stuff,  or  the  run  o'  the  pen?" 

"I'm    no   gun-fighter,    if   that's   what   you 


mean.5' 


Then  I'd  make  my  get-away  like  a  jackrab- 


46  Oh,  You  Texl 

bit  hellpoppin'  for  its  hole.  I  got  one  slant  at 
these  fellows  in  the  Buffalo  Hump.  They're 
bully-puss  kind  o'  men,  if  you  know  what  I 


"I  don't.  I'm  from  the  East." 

"  They  'II  run  it  over  you,  bluff  you  off  the 
map,  take  any  advantage  they  can." 

"Will  they  fight?" 

"They'll  burn  powder  quick  if  they  get  the 
drop  on  you." 

"What  are  they  like?" 

The  Texan  considered.  "One  is  a  tall,  red- 
headed guy;  the  other's  a  sawed-off,  hammered- 
down  little  runt  —  but  gunmen,  both  of  'em,  or 
I'm  a  liar." 

"They  would  probably  follow  me,"  said  tfae 
messenger,  worried. 

"You  better  believe  they  will,  soon  as  they 
hear  you've  gone." 

Arthur  kicked  a  little  hole  in  the  ground  with 
the  toe  of  his  shoe.  What  had  he  better  do?  He 
could  stay  at  the  fort,  of  course,  and  appeal  to 
Major  Ponsford  for  help.  But  if  he  did,  he  would 
probably  be  late  for  his  appointment  with  Wad- 
ley.  It  happened  that  the  cattleman  and  the 
army  officer  had  had  a  sharp  difference  of  opin- 
ion about  the  merits  of  the  herd  that  had  been 
delivered,  and  it  was  not  at  all  likely  that  Pons- 
ford would  give  him  a  military  guard  to  Tascosa. 
Moreover,  he  had  a  feeling  that  the  owner  of  the 


Oh,  You  Tex!  47 

A  T  O  would  resent  any  call  to  the  soldiers  for 
assistance.  Clint  Wadley  usually  played  his  own 
hand,  and  he  expected  the  same  of  his  men. 

But  the  habit  of  young  Ridley's  life  had  not 
made  for  fitness  to  cope  with  a  frontier  emer- 
gency. Nor  was  he  of  stiff  enough  clay  to  fight 
free  of  his  difficulty  without  help. 

"What  about  you?"  he  asked  the  other  man. 
"Can  I  hire  you  to  ride  with  me  to  Tascosa?" 

"As  a  tenderfoot- wrangler?"  sneered  the 
Texan. 

Arthur  flushed.  "I've  never  been  there.  I  don't 
know  the  way." 

"You  follow  a  gun-barrel  road  from  the  fort. 
But  I'll  ride  with  you  —  if  the  pay  is  right." 

"What  do  you  say  to  twenty  dollars  for  the 
trip?" 

"You've  hired  me." 

"And  if  we're  attacked?" 

"I  pack  a  six-shooter." 

The  troubled  young  man  looked  into  the  hard, 
reckless  face  of  this  stranger  who  had  gone  out 
of  his  way  to  warn  him  of  the  impending  attack. 
No  certificate  was  necessary  to  tell  him  that  this 
man  would  fight. 

"I  don't  know  your  name,"  said  Ridley,  still 
hesitating. 

"Any  more  than  I  know  yours,"  returned  the 
other.  "  Call  me  Bill  Moore,  an'  I  '11  be  on  hand  to 
eat  my  share  of  the  chuck." 


48  Oh,  You  Tex! 

"We'd  better  leave  at  once,  don't  you 
think?" 

"You're  the  doc.  Meet  you  here  in  an  hour 
ready  for  the  trail." 

The  man  who  called  himself  Bill  Moore  went 
his  uncertain  way  down  the  street.  To  the  casual 
eye  he  was  far  gone  in  drink.  Young  Ridley  went 
straight  to  the  corral  where  he  had  put  "up  his 
horse.  He  watered  and  fed  the  animal,  and  after 
an  endless  half -hour  saddled  the  bronco. 

Moore  joined  him  in  front  of  the  officersfquar- 
ters,  and  together  they  rode  out  of  the' post.* As 
the  Texan  had  said,  the  road  to  Tascosa  ran 
straight  as  a  gun-barrel.  At  first  they  rode  in  si- 
lence, swiftly,  leaving  behind  them  mile  after 
mile  of  dusty  trail.  It  was  a  brown,  level  country 
thickly  dotted  with  yucca.  Once  Moore  shot  a 
wild  turkey  running  in  the  grass.  Prairie-chicken 
were  abundant,  and  a  flight  of  pigeons  number- 
ing thousands  passed  at  one  time  over  their  heads 
and  obscured  the  sky. 

"Goin'  down  to  the  encinal  to  roost,"  ex- 
plained Moore. 

"A  man  could  come  pretty  near  living  off  his 
rifle  in  this  country,"  Arthur  remarked. 

"Outside  o'  flour  an'  salt,  I've  done  it  many  a 
time.  I  rode  through  the  Pecos  Valley  to  Fort 
Sumner  an'  on  to  Denver  oncet  an'  lived  off  the 
land.  Time  an'  again  I've  done  it  from  the  Brazos 
to  the  Canadian.  If  he  gets  tired  of  game,  a  man 


Oh,  You  Tex!  40 

can  jerk  the  hind  quarters  of  a  beef.  Gimme  a 
young  turkey  fed  on  sweet  mast  an'  cooked  on  a 
hackberry  bush  fire,  an'  I  '11  never  ask  for  better 
chuck,"  the  Texan  promised. 

In  spite  of  Ridley's  manifest  desire  to  push  on 
far  into  the  night,  Moore  made  an  early  camp. 

"No  use  gauntin'  our  broncs  when  we've  got 
all  the  time  there  is  before  us.  A  horse  is  a  man's 
friend.  He  don't  want  to  waste  it  into  a  sorry- 
lookin'  shadow.  Besides,  we're  better  off  here 
than  at  Painted  Rock.  It's  nothin'  but  a  whis- 
tlin'-post  in  the  desert." 

"Yes,  but  I'd  like  to  get  as' far  from  the  fort  as 
we  can.  I  —  I'm  in  a  hurry  to  reach  Tascosa," 
the  younger  man  urged. 

Moore  opened  a  row  of  worn  and  stained  teeth 
to  smile.  "Don't  worry,  young  fellow.  I'm  with 
you  now." 

After  they  had  made  camp  and  eaten,  the  two 
men  sat  beside  the  flickering  fire,  and  Moore  told 
stories  of  the  wild  and  turbulent  life  he  had 
known  around  Dodge  City  and  in  the  Lincoln 
County  War  that  was  still  waging  in  New  Mex- 
ico. He  had  freighted  to  the  Panhandle  from  El 
Moro,  Colorado,  from  Wichita  Falls,  and  even 
from  Dodge.  The  consummate  confidence  of  the 
man  soothed  the  unease  of  the  young  fellow  with 
the  hogskin  belt.  This  plainsman  knew  all  that 
the  Southwest  had  to  offer  of  danger  and  was 
equal  to  any  of  it. 


50  Oh,  You  Tex! 

Presently  Arthur  Ridley  grew  drowsy.  The 
last  that  he  remembered  before  he  fell  asleep  was 
seeing  Moore  light  his  pipe  again  with  a  live  coal 
from  the  fire.  The  Texan  was  to  keep  the  first 
watch. 

It  was  well  along  toward  morning  when  the 
snapping  of  a  bush  awakened  Ridley.  He  sat  up- 
right and  reached  quickly  for  the  revolver  by  his 
side. 

"Don't  you,"  called  a  voice  sharply  from  the 
brush. 

Two  men,  masked  with  slitted  handkerchiefs, 
broke  through  the  shin-oak  just  as  Arthur 
whipped  up  his  gun.  The  hammer  fell  once  — 
twice,  but  no  explosion  followed.  With  two  forty- 
fives  covering  him,  Ridley,  white  to  the  lips, 
dropped  his  harmless  weapon. 

Moore  came  to  life  with  sleepy  eyes,  but  he 
was  taken  at  a  disadvantage,  and  with  a  smoth- 
ered oath  handed  over  his  revolver. 

"Wha-what  do  you  want?"  asked  Ridley,  his 
teeth  chattering. 

The  shorter  of  the  two  outlaws,  a  stocky  man 
with  deep  chest  and  extraordinarily  broad  shoul- 
ders, growled  an  answer. 

"We  want  that  money  of  Clint  Wadley's 
you're  packin'." 

?•••••  iThe  camp-fire  had  died  to  ashes,  and  the  early- 
morning  air  was  chill.  Arthur  felt  himself  trem- 
bling so  that  his  hands  shook.  A  prickling  of  the 


Oh,  You  Tex!  51 

skin  went  goose-quilling  down  his  back.  In  the 
dim  light  those  masked  figures  behind  the  busi- 
ness-like guns  were  sinister  with  the  threat  of 
mystery  and  menace. 

"I  —  have  n't  any  money,"  he  quavered. 

" You'd  better  have  it,  young  fellow,  me  lad! " 
jeered  the  tall  bandit.  "We're  here  strictly  for 
business.  Dig  up." 

"I  don't  reckon  he's  carryin'  any  money  for 
Clint,"  Moore  argued  mildly.  "Don't  look  rea- 
sonable that  an  old-timer  like  Clint,  who  knocked 
the  bark  off'n  this  country  when  I  was  still  a  kid, 
would  send  a  tenderfoot  to  pack  gold  'cross  coun- 
try for  him." 

The  tall  man  swung  his  revolver  on  Moore. 
:<  'Nuff  from  you,"  he  ordered  grimly. 

The  heavy-set  outlaw  did  not  say  a  word.  He 
moved  forward  and  pressed  the  cold  rim  of  his 
forty-five  against  the  forehead  of  the  messenger. 
The  fluttering  heart  of  the  young  man  beat  hard 
against  his  ribs.  His  voice  stuck  in  his  throat,  but 
he  managed  to  gasp  a  surrender. 

"It's  in  my  belt.  For  God's  sake,  don't  shoot." 

"Gimme  yore  belt." 

The  boy  unbuckled  the  ribbon  of  hogskin  be- 
neath his  shirt  and  passed  it  to  the  man  behind 
the  gun.  The  outlaw  noticed  that  his  fingers  were 
cold  and  clammy. 

"Stand  back  to  back,"  commanded  the  heavy 
man. 


52  Oh,  You  Tex! 

Deftly  lie  swung  a  rope  over  the  heads  of  his 
captives,  jerked  it  tight,  wound  it  about  their 
bodies,  knotted  it  here  and  there,  and  finished 
with  a  triple  knot  where  their  heels  came  to- 
gether. 

"That'll  hold  'em  hitched  a  few  minutes,"  the 
lank  man  approved  after  he  had  tested  the  rope. 

"  I  'd  like  to  get  a  lick  at  you  fellows.  I  will,  too, 
some  day,"  mentioned  Moore  casually. 

"When  you  meet  up  with  us  we'll  be  there," 
retorted  the  heavy-weight.  "Let's  go,  Steve." 

The  long  man  nodded.  "Adios,  boys." 

"See  you  later,  and  when  I  meet  up  with  you, 
it  '11  be  me  'n'  you  to  a  finish,"  the  Texan  called. 

The  thud  of  the  retreating  hoofs  grew  faint 
and  died.  Already  Moore  was  busy  with  the  rope 
that  tied  them  together. 

"What's  the  matter,  kid?  You  shakin'  for  the 
drinks?  Did  n't  you  see  from  the  first  we  were  n't 
in  any  danger?  If  they'd  wanted  to  harm  us,  they 
could  have  shot  us  from  the  brush.  How  much 
was  in  that  belt?" 

"Six  thousand  dollars,"  the  boy  groaned. 

"  Well,  it  does  n't  cost  you  a  cent.  Cheer  up, 


son.' 


By  this  time  Moore  had  both  his  arms  free  and 
was  loosening  one  of  the  knots. 

"I  was  in  charge  of  it.  I'll  never  dare  face 
Mr.Wadley." 

"Sho!  It  was  his  own  fault.  How  in  Mexico 


Oh,  You  Tex!  53 

come  he  to  send  a  boy  to  market  for  such  a  big 
stake?" 

"Nobody  was  to  have  known  what  I  came  for. 
I  don't  see  how  it  got  out." 

"Must  'a'  been  a  leak  somewhere.  Don't  you 
care.  Play  the  hand  that's  dealt  you  and  let  the 
boss  worry.  Take  it  from  me,  you're  lucky  not 
to  be  even  powder-burnt  when  a  shot  from  the 
chaparral  might  have  done  yore  business/' 

"If  you  only  had  n't  fallen  asleep!" 

"Reckon  I  dozed  off.  I  was  up  'most  all  last 
night."  Moore  untied  the  last  knot  and  stepped 
out  from  the  loop.  "I'm  goin'  to  saddle  the 
broncs.  You  ride  in  to  Tascosa  and  tell  Wadley. 
I  '11  take  up  the  trail  an'  follow  it  while  it 's  warm. 
We  '11  see  if  a  pair  of  shorthorns  can  run  a  sandy 
like  that  on  me."  He  fell  suddenly  into  the  vio- 
lent, pungent  speech  of  the  mule-skinner. 

"I'll  go  with  you,"  announced  Ridley.  He  had 
no  desire  to  face  Clint  Wadley  with  such  a  lame 
tale. 

The  cold  eyes  of  the  Texan  drilled  into  his.  "  No, 
you  won't.  You'll  go  to  town  an'  tell  the  old  man 
what 's  happened.  Tell  him  to  send  his  posse  across 
the  malpais  toward  the  rim-rock.  I  '11  meet  him  at 
Two  Buck  Crossin'  with  any  news  I've  got." 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  the  hoofs  of  his 
horse  flung  back  faint  echoes  from  the  distance. 
The  boy  collapsed.  His  head  sank  into  his  hands 
and  his  misery  found  vent  in  sobs. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  DANCE 

LONG  since  the  sun  had  slid  behind  the  horizon 
edge  and  given  place  to  a  desert  night  of  shim- 
mering moonlight  and  far  stars.  From  the  en- 
chanted mesa  Rutherford  Wadley  descended  to 
a  valley  draw  in  which  were  huddled  a  score  of 
Mexican  jacals,  huts  built  of  stakes  stuck  in  a 
trench,  roofed  with  sod  and  floored  with  mud. 
Beyond  these  was  a  more  pretentious  house. 
Originally  it  had  been  a  log  "hogan,"  but  a  large 
adobe  addition  had  been  constructed  for  a  store. 
Inside  this  the  dance  was  being  held. 

Light  filtered  through  the  chinks  in  the  mud. 
Prom  door  and  windows  came  the  sounds  of 
scraping  fiddles  and  stamping  feet.  The  singsong 
voice  of  the  caller  and  the  occasional  whoop  of  a 
cowboy  punctuated  the  medley  of  noises. 

A  man  whose  girth  would  have  put  Falstaff  to 
shame  greeted  Rutherford  wheezily,  "Fall  off 
and  'light,  Ford.  She's  in  full  swing  and  the  bri- 
dle's off." 

The  man  was  Jumbo  Wilkins,  line-rider  for  the 
A  TO. 

Young  Wadley  swung  to  the  ground.  He  did 
not  trouble  to  answer  his  father's  employee.  It 
Was  in  little  ways  like  this  that  he  endeared  him* 


Oh,  You  Tex!  55 

self  to  those  at  hand,  and  it  was  just  this  spirit 
that  the  democratic  West  would  not  tolerate. 
While  the  rider  was  tying  his  horse  to  the  hitch- 
rack,  Jumbo  Wilkins,  who  was  a  friendly  soul, 
made  another  try  at  conversation. 

"Glad  you  got  an  invite.  Old  man  Cobb 
had  n't  room  for  everybody,  so  he  did  n't  make 
his  bid  wide  open." 

The  young  man  jingled  up  the  steps.  "That 
so?  Well,  I  did  n't  get  an  invite,  as  you  call  it. 
But  I'm  here."  He  contrived  to  say  it  so  offen- 
sively that  Jumbo  flushed  with  anger. 

Wadley  sauntered  into  the  room  and  stood  for 
a  moment  by  the  door.  His  trim,  graceful  figure 
and  dark  good  looks  made  him  at  once  a  focus 
of  eyes.  Nonchalantly  he  sunned  himself  in  the 
limelight,  with  that  little  touch  of  swagger  that 
captures  the  imagination  of  girls.  No  man  in  the 
cow-country  dressed  like  Rutherford  Wadley. 
In  the  kingdom  of  the  blind  the  one-eyed  are 
kings,  and  to  these  frontier  women  this  young 
fellow  was  a  glass  of  fashion.  There  was  about 
him,  too,  a  certain  dash,  a  spice  of  the  devil  more 
desirable  in  a  breaker  of  hearts  than  any  mere 
beauty. 

His  bold,  possessive  eyes  ranged  over  the  room 
to  claim  what  they  might  desire.  He  had  come 
to  the  dance  at  Tomichi  Creek  to  make  love  to 
Tony  Alviro's  betrothed  sweetheart  Bonita. 

She  was  in  the  far  corner  with  her  little  court 


56  Oh,  You  Tex! 

about  her.  If  Bonita  was  a  flirt,  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted she  was  a  charming  one.  No  girl  within  a 
day's  ride  was  so  courted  as  she.  Compact  of  fire 
and  passion,  brimming  with  life  and  health,  she 
drew  men  to  her  as  the  flame  the  moth. 

Presently  the  music  started.  Bonita,  in  the 
arms  of  Tony,  floated  past  Rutherford,  a  miracle 
of  supple  lightness.  A  flash  of  soft  eyes  darted  at 
the  heir  of  the  A  T  O  ranch.  In  them  was  a  smile 
adorable  and  provocative. 

As  soon  as  the  dance  was  over,  WaoUey  made 
his  way  indolently  toward  her.  He  claimed  the 
next  waltz. 

She  had  promised  it  to  Tony,  the  girl  said  — 
and  the  next. 

"Tony  can't  close-herd  you,"  laughed  Ruther- 
ford. "His  title  ain't  clear  yet  —  won't  be  till  the 
priest  has  said  so.  You'll  dance  the  second  one 
with  me,  Bonita." 

"We  shall  see,  senor,"  she  mocked. 

But  the  Mexican  blood  in  the  girl  beat  fast.  In 
her  soft,  liquid  eyes  lurked  the  hunger  for  sex 
adventure.  And  this  man  was  a  prince  of  the 
blood  —  the  son  of  Clint  Wadley,  the  biggest 
cattleman  in  West  Texas. 

There  were  challenging  stars  of  deviltry  in 
Bonita's  eyes  when  they  met  those  of  Ruther- 
ford over  the  shoulder  of  Alviro  while  she  danced, 
but  the  color  was  beating  warm  through  her 
dark  skin.  The  lift  of  her  round,  brown  throat  to 


Oh,  You  Tex!  57 

aa  indifferent  tilt  of  the  chin  was  mere  pretense. 
The  languorous  passion  of  the  South  was  her  in- 
heritance, and  excitement  mounted  in  her  while 
she  kept  time  to  the  melodious  dance. 

Alviro  was  master  of  ceremonies,  and  Wad- 
ley  found  his  chance  while  the  young  Mexican 
was  of  necessity  away  from  Bonita.  Rutherford 
bowed  to  her  with  elaborate  mockery. 

"Come.  Let  us  walk  in  the  moonlight,  sweet- 
heart," he  said. 

Bonita  turned  to  him  with  slow  grace.  The 
eyes  of  the  man  and  the  woman  met  and  fought. 
In  hers  there  was  a  kind  of  savage  fierceness,  in 
his  an  insolent  confidence. 

"No,"  she  answered. 

"Ah!  You're  afraid  of  me  —  afraid  to  trust 
yourself  with  me,"  he  boasted. 

She  was  an  untutored  child  of  the  desert,  and 
his  words  were  a  spur  to  her  quick  pride.  She  rose 
at  once,  her  bosom  rising  and  falling  fast.  She 
would  never  confess  that  —  never. 

The  girl  walked  beside  him  with  the  fluent 
grace  of  youth,  beautiful  as  a  forest  fawn.  In  ten 
years  she  would  be  fat  and  slovenly  like  hei 
Mexican  mother,  but  now  she  carried  her  slender 
body  as  a  queen  is  supposed  to  but  does  not.  Her 
heel  sank  into  a  little  patch  of  mud  where  some 
one  had  watered  a  horse.  Under  the  cottonwoods 
she  pulled  up  her  skirt  a  trifle  and  made  a  tnoue 
of  disgust  at  the  soiled  slipper. 


58  Oh,  You  Tex! 

"See  what  you've  done!55  Small,  even  teeth 
gleamed  in  a  coquettish  smile  from  the  ripe  lips 
of  the  little  mouth.  He  understood  that  he  was 
being  invited  to  kneel  and  clean  the  mud-stained 
shoe. 

"If  you're  looking  for  a  doormat  to  wipe  your 
feet  on,  I  '11  send  for  Tony,"  he  jeered. 

The  father  of  Bonita  was  Anglo-Saxon.  She 
flashed  anger  at  his  presumption. 

"Don't  you  think  it.  Tony  will  never  be  a 
doormat  to  anybody.  Be  warned,  senor,  and  do 
not  try  to  take  what  is  his." 

Again  their  eyes  battled.  Neither  of  them  saw 
a  man  who  had  come  out  from  the  house  and  was 
watching  them  from  the  end  of  the  porch. 

"I  take  what  the  gods  give,  my  dear,  and  ask 
leave  of  no  man,"  bragged  Wadley. 

"Or  woman?" 

"Ah!  That  is  different.  When  the  woman  is 
Bonita,  muckacha,  I  am  her  slave." 

He  dropped  to  one  knee  and  with  his  hand- 
kerchief wiped  the  mud  from  the  heel  of  her  slip- 
per. For  a  moment  his  fingers  touched  lightly  the 
trim  little  ankle;  then  he  rose  quickly  and  caught 
her  in  his  arms. 

"Sometime  —  soon  —  it's  going  to  be  me  and 
you,  sweetheart,"  he  whispered. 

"Don't,"  she  begged,  struggling  against  her- 
self and  him.  "If  Tony  sees  — " 

His  passion  was  too  keen-edged  to  take  warn- 


Oh,  You  Tex!  59 

ing.  He  kissed  her  lips  and  throat  and  eyes.  The 
eyes  of  the  watcher  never  wavered.  They  were 
narrowed  to  shining  slits  of  jet. 

"Why  do  you  come  and  —  and  follow  me?'* 
the  girl  cried  softly.  "It  is  not  that  you  do  not 
know  Tony  is  jealous.  This  is  not  play  with  him. 
He  loves  me  and  will  fight  for  me.  You  are 
mad." 

"For  love  of  you!"  he  laughed  triumphantly. 

She  knew  he  lied.  The  instinct  that  served  her 
for  a  conscience  had  long  since  told  her  as  much. 
But  her  vanity,  and  perhaps  something  deeper, 
craved  satisfaction.  She  wanted  to  believe  he 
meant  it.  Under  his  ardent  gaze  the  long  lashes  of 
the  girl  drooped  to  her  dusky  cheeks.  It  was  Tony 
she  loved,  but  Tony  offered  her  only  happiness 
and  not  excitement. 

A  moment  later  she  gave  a  startled  little  cry 
and  pushed  herself  free.  Her  dilated  eyes  were 
fixed  on  something  behind  the  cattleman. 

Rutherford,  warned  by  her  expression,  whirled 
on  his  heel. 

Tony  Alviro,  knife  in  hand,  was  close  upon 
him.  Wadley  lashed  out  hard  with  his  left  and 
caught  the  Mexican  on  the  point  of  the  chin. 

The  blow  lifted  Tony  from  his  feet  and  flung 
him  at  full  length  to  the  ground.  He  tried  to  rise, 
groaned  —  rolled  over. 

Bonita  was  beside  him  in  an  instant.  From 
where  she  knelt,  with  Tony's  dark  head  in  her 


60  Oh,  You  Tex! 

arms  pressed  close  to  her  bosom,  she  turned 
fiercely  on  Wadley. 

"I  hate  you,  dog  of  a  gringo  1  You  are  alT  one 
big  lie  through  and  through  —  what  they  call 
bad  egg  —  no  good!" 

Already  half  a  dozen  men  were  charging  from 
the  house.  Jumbo  pinned  Wadley's  arms  by  the 
elbows  to  prevent  him  from  drawing  a  revolver. 

"What's  the  rumpus?"  he  demanded. 

"The  fellow  tried  to  knife  me  in  the  back," 
explained  Rutherford.  "Jealous,  because  I  took 
his  girl." 

"So?"  grunted  Wilkins.  "Well,  you'd  better 
light  a  shuck  out  o'  here.  You  came  on  yore  own 
invite.  You  can  go  on  mine." 

"Why  should  I  go?  I'll  see  you  at  Tombstone 
first." 

f  "Why?  "  Jumbo's  voice  was  no  longer  amiable 
and  ingratiating.  "Because  you  gave  Tony  a  raw 
deal,  an'  he 's  got  friends  here.  Have  you  ? " 

Wadley  looked  round  and  saw  here  and  there 
Mexican  faces  filled  with  sullen  resentment  It 
came  to  him  swiftly  that  this  was  no  place  for  his 
father's  son  to  linger. 

"I  don't  push  my  society  on  any  one,"  he  said 
haughtily.  "If  I  ain't  welcome,  I'll  go.  But  I 
serve  notice  right  here  that  any  one  who  tries  to 
pull  a  knife  on  me  will  get  cold  lead  next  time." 

Jumbo,  with  his  arm  tucked  under  that  of 
Wadley,  led  the  way  to  the  house,,  He  untied  the 


Oh,  You  Tex!  61 

rein  of  Rutherford's  horse  and  handed  it  to  the 
son  of  his  boss. 

"  Vamos  I "  he  said. 

The  young  man  pulled  himself  to  the  saddle. 
"You're  a  hell  of  a  friend,"  he  snarled. 

"Who  said  anything  about  bein'  a  friend?  I'm 
particular  about  when  I  use  that  word,"  replied 
Wilkins  evenly,  with  hard  eyes. 

Wadley's  quirt  burned  the  flank  of  the  cow- 
pony  and  it  leaped  for  the  road. 

When  five  minutes  later  some  one  inquired  for 
Tony  he  too  had  disappeared. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

RUTHERFORD  MAKES  A  MISTAKE 

RUTHERFORD  WADLEY  struck  across  country 
toward  the  rim-rock.  Anger  burned  high  in  him, 
and  like  the  bully  he  was  he  took  it  out  of  his 
good  horse  by  roweling  its  sides  savagely.  He 
plunged  into  the  curly  mesquite,  driving  forward 
straight  as  an  arrow.  Behind  him  in  the  darkness 
followed  a  shadow,  sinister  and  silent,  out  of 
sight,  but  within  sound  of  the  horse's  footfall.  It 
stopped  when  Wadley  stopped;  when  he  moved, 
it  moved. 

Midnight  found  young  Wadley  still  moving 
straight  forward,  the  moon  on  his  left.  Painted 
Rock  was  ten  miles  to  the  west.  Except  for  the 
stage  station  there,  and  the  settlement  he  had 
left,  there  was  no  other  habitation  for  fifty  miles. 
It  was  a  wilderness  of  silence. 

Yet  in  that  waste  of  empty  space  Rutherford 
"jumped  up"  a  camper.  The  man  was  a  trader, 
carrying  honey  and  pecans  to  Fort  Worth.  He 
was  awakened  by  the  sound  of  a  raucous  curse, 
he  testified  later,  and  in  the  bright  moonlight 
saw  the  young  cattleman  beating  his  horse.  Evi- 
dently the  young  animal  had  been  startled  at 
sight  of  his  white-topped  wagon. 

An  angry  sentence  or  two  passed  between  the 


Oh,  You  Tex!  63 

men  before  the  cattleman  moved  over  the  hill- 
brow.  As  the  trader  rolled  up  again  in  his  sugun, 
there  came  to  him  faintly  the  sound  of  another 
horse.  He  was  not  able  to  explain  later  why  this 
struck  him  as  ominous,  beyond  the  strangeness 
of  the  fact  that  two  men,  not  in  each  other's 
company,  should  be  traveling  so  close  together 
in  the  desert.  At  any  rate,  he  rose,  crept  forward 
to  a  clump  of  Spanish  bayonet,  and  from  behind 
it  saw  a  young  Mexican  pass  along  the  swale.  He 
was  close  enough  almost  to  have  touched  him, 
and  in  the  rich  moonlight  saw  the  boyish  face 
clearly. 

By  the  time  Wadley  reached  the  rough  coun- 
try of  the  cap-rock,  the  young  day  was  begin- 
ning to  awaken.  A  quail  piped  its  morning  greet- 
ing from  the  brush.  A  gleam  of  blue  in  the  dun 
sky  flashed  warning  of  a  sun  soon  to  rise.  He  had 
struck  the  rim-rock  a  little  too  far  to  the  right, 
and  deflected  from  his  course  to  find  the  pocket 
he  was  seeking.  For  half  a  mile  he  traveled  par- 
allel to  the  ridge,  then  turned  into  a  break  in  the 
wall.  At  the  summit  of  a  little  rise  he  gave  a 
whistle. 

Presently,  from  above  a  big  boulder,  a  head 
appeared  cautiously. 

"Hello,  out  there!  Who  is  it?" 

"Ford." 

The  rider  swung  to  the  ground  stiffly  and  led 
his  horse  forward  down  a  sharply  descending 


64  Oh,  You  Texi 

path  to  a  little  draw.  A  lank,  sallow  man  with  a 
rifle  joined  him.  With  his  back  to  a  flat  rock,  a 
heavy-set,  broad-shouldered  fellow  was  loung- 
ing. 

:"Lo,  Ford.  Didn't  expect  you  to-night/'  he 
grumbled. 

"Drifted  over  from  the  dance  at  Tomichi 
Creek.  Beat  up  a  young  Mexican  and  had  to  get 
out." 

"You're  such  a  sullen  brute!  Why  can't  you 
let  folks  alone?"  Pete  Dinsmore  wanted  to 
know. 

He  was  annoyed.  Rutherford  Wadley  was  not 
a  partner  in  the  business  on  hand  to-night,  and 
he  would  rather  the  man  had  been  a  hundred 
miles  away. 

"He  got  jealous  and  tried  to  knife  me,"  ex- 
plained the  heir  of  the  A  T  O  sulkily. 

"You  durn  fool!  Won't  you  ever  learn  sense? 
Who  was  it  this  time?" 

"Tony  Alviro.  His  girl's  crazy  about  me." 

The  keen,  hard  eyes  of  Dinsmore  took  hi  the 
smug  complacency  of  the  handsome  young  cad. 
He  knew  that  this  particular  brand  of  fool  would 
go  its  own  way,  but  he  wasted  a  word  of  advice. 

"I  don't  guess  you  want  any  pearls  o'  wisdom 
from  me,  but  I'll  onload  some  gratis.  You  let 
Bonita  Menendez  alone  or  Tony  will  camp  on 
yore  trail  till  he  gits  you." 

"Sure  will,"  agreed  Gurley,  setting  down  his 


Oh,  You  Tex!  65 

rifle.  "Them  Mexicans  hang  together,  too.  We 
need  their  friendship  in  our  business.  Better  lay 
off  them." 

"I  don't  remember  askin'  your  advice,  Gur- 
ley." 

"Well,  I'mgivin'it.  See?" 

Another  sharp  whistle  cut  the  air.  Gurley 
picked  up  the  rifle  again  and  climbed  the  lookout 
rock.  Presently  he  returned  with  a  dismounted 
horseman.  The  man  was  the  one  who  had  in- 
troduced himself  to  Arthur  Bipley  a  few  hours 
earlier  as  Bill  Moore. 

"Howdy,  boys.  Got  the  stuff  all  safe?"  he 
asked  cheerfully. 

From  behind  Wadley  Pete  Dinsmore  was  mak- 
ing a  series  of  facial  contortions.  Unfortunately 
the  new  arrival  did  not  happen  to  be  looking  at 
him,  and  so  missed  the  warning. 

"Never  saw  anything  work  prettier,"  Moore 
said  with  a  grin  as  he  put  down  his  saddle  on  a 
boulder.  "Ridley  had  n't  ought  to  be  let  out 
without  a  nurse.  He  swallowed  my  whole  yarn  — • 
gobbled  down  bait,  sinker  an'  line.  Where's  the 
gold,  Pete?" 

"In  a  sack  back  of  the  big  rock."  Pete  was  dis- 
gusted with  his  brother  Homer,  alias  Bill  Moore. 
They  would  probably  have  to  divide  with  young 
Wadley  now,  to  keep  his  mouth  shut. 

Rutherford  jumped  at  the  truth.  His  father 
had  told  him  that  he  was  going  to  give  Art  Rid- 


66  Oh,  You  Tex! 

ley  a  try-out  by  sending  him  to  the  fort  for  a  pay* 
ment  of  gold.  Probably  he,  Rutherford,  had  men- 
tioned this  to  one  of  the  gang  when  he  was  drunk. 
They  had  held  up  the  messenger,  intending  to 
freeze  him  out  of  any  share  of  the  profits.  All 
right  —  he  would  show  them  whether  he  was  a 
two-spot. 

"Bring  out  the  sack.  Let's  have  a  look  at  it," 
he  ordered. 

Gurley  handed  the  sack  to  Pete  Dinsmore, 
and  the  men  squatted  in  a  circle  tailor-fashion. 

"Smooth  work,  I  call  it,"  said  Homer  Dins- 
more.  He  explained  to  Wadley  why  he  was  of 
this  opinion.  "Steve  heard  tell  of  a  wagon-train 
goin'  to  Tascosa  to-day.  If  Ridley  slept  overnight 
at  the  fort  he  would  hear  of  it  an'  stay  with  the 
freight  outfit  till  he  had  delivered  the  gold  to 
yore  dad.  We  had  to  get  him  started  right  away. 
So  I  pulled  on  him  a  story  about  hearin'  the  boys 
intended  to  hold  him  up.  He  hired  me  as  a  guard 
to  help  him  stand  off  the  bad  men.  Whilst  I  was 
keepin'  watch  I  fixed  up  his  six-shooter  so's  it 
would  n't  do  any  damage  if  it  went  off.  Best 
blamed  piece  of  work  I  ever  did  pull  off.  I'd 
ought  to  get  a  half  of  what  we  took  off'n  him 
instead  of  a  third." 

"A  third!  Who  says  you  get  a  third?"  asked 
Wadley. 

"Three  of  us  did  this  job,  did  n't  we?"  cut  in 
Gurley. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  67 

"Sure.  You  took  what  belongs  to  me  —  or 
at  least  to  my  dad,"  protested  young  Wadley. 
"  Tried  to  slip  one  over  on  me.  Guess  again, 
boys.  I  won't  stand  for  it." 

The  jade  eyes  of  the  older  brother  narrowed. 
"Meanin'  just  what,  Ford?" 

"What  do  you  take  me  for,  Pete?  Think  I'm 
goin'  to  let  you  rob  me  of  my  own  money  an' 
never  cheep?  I'll  see  you  all  in  blazes  first,"  cried 
Wadley  wildly. 

"  Yes,  but — just  what  would  you  do  about  it?  " 

"Do?  I'U  ride  to  town  an'  tell  Cap  EUison.  I'll 
bust  you  up  in  business,  sure  as  hell's  hot." 

There  was  a  moment  of  chill  silence.  Three 
of  the  four  men  present  knew  that  Rutherford 
Wadley  had  just  passed  sentence  of  death  upon 
himself.  They  had  doubted  him  before,  vaguely, 
and  without  any  definite  reason.  But  after  this 
open  threat  the  fear  that  he  would  betray  them 
would  never  lift  until  he  was  where  he  could  no 
longer  tell  tales. 

"How  much  of  this  money  do  you  think  is 
comin'  to  you,  Ford?"  asked  Pete  quietly. 

"It 's  all  mine,  anyhow.  You  boys  know  that." 
Rutherford  hesitated;  then  his  greed  dominated. 
He  had  them  where  they  had  to  eat  out  of  his 
hand.  "Give  me  two  thirds,  an'  you  fellows  di- 
vide the  other  third  for  your  trouble.  That's 
fair." 

"Goddlemighty,  what's  eatin*  you?"  Gurley 


68  Oh,  You  Tex! 

exploded.  "Think  we're  plumb  id  jits?  You  V 
me  will  mix  bullets  first,  you  traitor! " 

The  Dinsniores  exchanged  one  long,  significant 
look.  Then  Pete  spoke  softly. 

"Don't  get  on  the  prod,  Steve.  Ford  sure  has 
got  us  where  the  wool  's  short,  but  I  reckon  he 
aims  to  be  reasonable.  Let's  say  half  for  you, 
Ford,  an'  the  other  half  divided  a,mong  the  rest 
of  us." 

Wadley  had  refreshed  himself  out  of  a  bottle 
several  times  during  the  night.  Ordinarily  he 
would  have  accepted  the  proposed  compromise, 
but  the  sullen  and  obstinate  side  of  him  was 
uppermost. 

"You've  heard  my  terms,  Pete.  I  stand  pat.'* 

Again  a  significant  look  passed,  this  time  be- 
tween Pete  Dinsmore  and  Gurley. 

"All  right,"  said  Homer  Dinsmore  shortly. 
"It's  a  raw  deal  you're  givin'  us,  but  I  reckon 
you  know  yore  own  business,  Wadley." 

The  money  was  emptied  from  the  pigskin  belt 
and  divided.  Rutherford  repacked  his  two  thirds 
in  the  belt  and  put  it  on  next  his  shirt. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  fellows  are  goin'  to 
do,  but  I'm  goin'  to  strike  for  town,"  he  said. 
"I  aim  to  get  back  in  time  to  join  one  of  the 
posses  in  their  hunt  for  the  outlaws." 

His  jest  did  not  win  any  smiles.  The  men  grimly 
watched  him  saddle  and  ride  away.  A  quarter  of 
an  hour  later  they  too  were  in  the  saddle. 


CHAPTER  IX 

MURDER  IN  THE  CHAPARRAL 

To  Jack  Roberts,  engaged  at  the  Delmonico  res« 
taurant  in  the  serious  business  of  demolishing  a 
steak  smothered  in  onions,  came  Pedro  Menen- 
dez  with  a  strange  story  of  a  man  lying  dead 
in  the  rim-rock,  a  bullet-hole  in  the  back  of  his 
head. 

The  Mexican  vaquero  came  to  his  news  halt- 
ingly. He  enveloped  it  in  mystery .*  There  was 
a  dead  man  lying  at  the  foot  of  Battle  Butte, 
out  in  the  rim-rock  country,  and  there  was  this 
wound  in  the  back  of  his  head.  That  was  all. 
Pedro  became  vague  at  once  as  to  detail.  He 
took  refuge  in  shrugs  and  a  poor  memory  when 
the  Ranger  pressed  him  in  regard  to  the  source 
of  his  information. 

Roberts  knew  the  ways  of  the  Mexicans.  They 
would  tell  what  they  wanted  to  tell  and  no  more. 
He  accepted  the  news  given  him  and  for  the  mo- 
ment did  not  push  his  questions  home. 

For  twenty-four  hours  the  Ranger  had  been  in 
the  saddle,  and  he  was  expecting  to  turn  in  for  a 
round-the-clock  sleep.  But  Pedro's  tale  changed 
his  mind.  Captain  Ellison  was  at  Austin,  Lieu- 
tenant Hawley  at  Tascosa.  Regretfully  Roberts 
gave  up  his  overdue  rest  and  ordered  another  e«p 


70  Oh,  You  Tex! 

of  strong  coffee.  Soon  he  was  In  the  saddle  again 
with  a  fresh  horse  under  him. 

The  Panhandle  was  at  its  best.  Winter  snows 
and  spring  rains  had  set  it  blooming.  The  cacti 
were  a  glory  of  white,  yellow,  purple,  pink,  and 
scarlet  blossoms.  The  white,  lilylike  flowers  of 
the  Spanish  bayonet  flaunted  themselves  every- 
where. Meadowlarks  chirruped  gayly  and  prai- 
rie-hens fluttered  across  the  path  in  front  of  the 
rider. 

Battle  Butte  had  received  its  name  from  an 
old  tradition  of  an  Indian  fight.  Here  a  party  of 
braves  had  made  a  last  stand  against  an  over- 
whelming force  of  an  enemy  tribe.  It  was  a  flat 
mesa  rising  sharply  as  a  sort  of  bastion  from  the 
rim-rock.  The  erosions  of  centuries  had  given  it 
an  appearance  very  like  a  fort. 

Jack  skirted  the  base  of  the  butte.  At  the  edge 
of  a  clump  of  prickly  pear  he  found  the  evidence 
of  grim  tragedy  which  the  circling  buzzards  had 
already  warned  him  to  expect.  He  moved  toward 
it  very  carefully,  in  order  not  to  obliterate  any 
footprints.  The  body  lay  face  down  in  a  huddled 
heap,  one  hand  with  outstretched  finger  reaching 
forth  like  a  sign-post.  A  bullet-hole  in  the  back 
of  the  head  showed  how  the  man  had  come  to  his 
death.  He  had  been  shot  from  behind. 

The  Ranger  turned  the  body  and  recognized 
it  as  that  of  Rutherford  Wadley.  The  face  was 
crushed  and  one  of  the  arms  broken.  It  was  an 


Oh,  You  Tex!  71 

easy  guess  that  the  murder  had  been  done  on  the 
butte  above  and  the  body  flung  down. 

Jack,  on  all  fours,  began  to  quarter  over  the 
ground  like  a  bloodhound  seeking  a  trail.  Every 
sense  in  him  seemed  to  quicken  to  the  hunt.  His 
alert  eyes  narrowed  in  concentration.  His  finger- 
tips, as  he  crept  forward,  touched  the  sand  soft 
as  velvet.  His  body  was  tense  as  a  coiled  spring. 
No  cougar  stalking  its  prey  could  have  been 
more  lithely  wary. 

For  the  Ranger  had^found  a  faint  boot-track, 
and  with  amazing  pains  he  was  following  this 
delible  record  of  guilt.  Some  one  had  come  here 
and  looked  at  the  dead  body.  Why?  To  make 
sure  that  the  victim  was  quite  dead?  To  identify 
the  victim?  Roberts  did  not  know  why,  but  he 
meant  to  find  out. 

The  footprint  was  alone.  Apparently  none  led 
to  it  or  led  from  it.  On  that  one  impressionable 
spot  alone  had  been  written  the  signature  of  a 
man's  presence. 

But  "Tex"  Roberts  was  not  an  old  plainsman 
for  nothing.  He  knew  that  if  he  were  patient 
enough  he  would  find  other  marks  of  betrayal. 

He  found  a  second  track  —  a  third,  and  from 
them  determined  a  course  to  follow.  It  brought 
him  to  a  stretch  of  soft  ground  at  the  edge  of  a 
wash.  The  footprints  here  were  sharp  and  dis- 
tinct. They  led  up  an  arroyo  to  the  bluff  above. 
i-  The  Ranger  knelt  close  to  the  most  distinct 


72  Oh,  You  Tex! 

print  and  studied  it  for  a  long  time.  All  its  details 
and  peculiarities  were  recorded  in  his  mind.  The 
broken  sole,  the  worn  heel,  the  beveled  edge  of 
the  toe-cap  —  all  these  fastened  themselves  in  his 
memory.  With  a  tape-line  he  measured  minutely 
the  length  of  the  whole  foot,  of  the  sole  and  of  the 
heel.  These  he  jotted  down  in  his  notebook,  to- 
gether with  cross-sections  of  width.  He  dupli- 
cated this  process  with  the  best  print  he  could 
find  of  the  left  foot. 

His  investigation  led  him  next  to  the  summit 
of  the  bluff.  A  little  stain  of  blood  on  a  rock 
showed  him  where  Wadley  had  probably  been 
standing  when  he  was  shot.  The  murder  might 
have  been  done  by  treachery  on  the  part  of  one 
of  his  companions.  If  so,  probably  the  bullet  had 
been  fired  from  a  revolver.  In  that  case  the  man 
who  did  it  would  have  made  sure  by  standing 
close  behind  his  victim.  This  would  have  left 
powder-marks,  and  there  had  been  none  around 
the  wound.  The  chances  were  that  the  shooting 
had  been  done  from  ambush,  and  if  this  was  a 
true  guess,  it  was  a  fair  deduction  that  the  as- 
sassin had  hidden  behind  the  point  of  rocks  just 
back  of  the  bluff.  For  he  could  reach  that  point 
by  following  the  rim-rock  without  being  seen  by 
his  victim. 

Roberts  next  studied  the  ground  just  back  of 
the  point  of  rocks.  The  soil  here  was  of  disinte- 
grated granite,  so  that  there  were  no  footprints 


Oh,  You  Tex!  73 

to  betray  anybody  who  might  have  been  hidden 
there.  But  Jack  picked  up  something  that  was  in 
its  way  as  decisive  as  what  he  had  been  seeking. 
It  was  a  cartridge  that  had  been  ejected  from  a 
'73  l  rifle.  The  harmless  bit  of  metal  in  his  hand 
was  the  receptacle  from  which  death  had  flashed 
across  the  open  toward  Ford  Wadley. 

At  the  foot  of  the  rim-rock  the  Ranger  found 
signs  where  horses  had  been  left.  He  could  not  at 
first  make  sure  whether  there  were  three  or  four. 
From  that  spot  he  back-tracked  for  miles  along 
the  edge  of  the  rim-rock  till  he  came  to  the  aight- 
camp  where  Wadley  had  met  the  outlaws.  This, 
too,  he  studied  for  a  long  time. 

He  had  learned  a  good  deal,  but  he  did  not 
know  why  Ford  Wadley  had  been  shot.  The 
young  fellow  had  not  been  in  Texas  more  than 
six  or  eight  months,  and  he  could  not  have  made 
many  enemies.  If  he  had  nothing  about  him 
worth  stealing  —  and  in  West  Texas  men  were 
not  in  the  habit  of  carrying  valuables  —  the  ob- 
ject could  not  have  been  robbery. 

He  rode  back  to  Battle  Butte  and  carried  to 
town  with  him  the  body  of  the  murdered  man. 
There  he  heard  two  bits  of  news,  either  of  which 
might  serve  as  a  cause  for  the  murder:  Young 
Wadley  had  quarreled  with  Tony  Alviro  at  a 

1  The  '73  rifle  was  not  a  seventy-three-caliber  weapon,  but  was 
named  from  the  year  it  was  got  out.  Its  cartridges  eould  be  used 
for  a  forty-four  revolver. 


*4  Oh,  You  Tex! 

dance  and  grossly  insulted  him;  Arthur  Ridley 
had  been  robbed  of  six  thousand  dollars  by 
masked  men  while  on  his  way  to  Tascosa. 

Ranger  Roberts  decided  that  he  would  like  to 
have  a  talk  with  Tony. 


CHAPTER  X 

"A  DAMNED  POOR  APOLOGY  FOR  A  MAN** 

THE  big  cattleman  from  New  Mexico  who  was 
talking  with  the  owner  of  the  A  T  O  threw  his 
leg  across  the  arm  of  the  chair.  "The  grass  is 
good  on  the  Pecos  this  year.  Up  in  Mexico  1  the 
cattle  look  fine." 

"Same  here,"  agreed  Wadley.  "I'm  puttin' 
ten  thousand  yearlin's  on  the  Canadian." 

A  barefoot  negro  boy  appeared  at  his  elbow 
with  a  note.  The  owner  of  the  A  T  O  ripped  open 
the  envelope  and  read: 

DEAR  MR.  WADLEY: 

I  was  held  up  last  night  by  masked  men  and  robbed. 
They  took  the  gold.  I  'm  too  sick  to  go  farther. 

ARTHUR  RIDLEY. 

The  jaw  of  the  Texas  cattleman  clamped.  He 
rose  abruptly.  "I  got  business  on  hand.  A  mes- 
senger of  mine  has  been  robbed  of  six  thousand 
dollars."  He  turned  to  the  colored  boy.  "Where's 
the  man  who  gave  you  this?" 

"At  the  Buffalo  Corral,  sah." 

Wadley  strode  from  the  hotel,  flung  himself  on 
'a  horse,  and  galloped  down  the  street  toward  the 
corral. 

1  In  western  Texas  when  one  speaks  of  Mexico  he  means  New 
Mexico.  If  he  refers  to  the  country  Mexico,  he  says  Old  Mexico. 


76  Oh,  You  Tex! 

Young  Ridley  was  lying  on  a  pile  of  hay  when 
his  employer  entered.  His  heart  was  sick  with 
fear  and  worry.  For  he  knew  now  that  his  lack 
of  boldness  had  led  him  into  a  serious  mistake. 
He  had  by  his  indecision  put  himself  in  the  power 
of  Moore,  and  the  chances  were  that  the  man  was 
in  collusion  with  the  gang  that  had  held  him  up. 
He  had  made  another  mistake  in  not  going  di- 
rectly to  Wadley  with  the  news.  The  truth  was 
that  he  had  not  the  nerve  to  face  his  employer.  It 
was  quite  on  the  cards  that  the  old-timer  might 
use  a  blacksnake  whip  on  him.  So  he  had  taken 
refuge  in  a  plea  of  illness. 

The  cattleman  took  one  look  at  him  and  un- 
derstood. He  reached  down  and  jerked  the  young 
fellow  from  the  hay  as  if  he  had  been  a  child.  The 
stomach  muscles  of  the  boy  contracted  with  fear 
and  the  heart  died  within  him.  Clint  Wadley  in 
anger  was  dangerous.  In  his  youth  he  had  been  a 
gun-fighter  and  the  habit  had  never  entirely  been 
broken. 

"I -- I'm  ill,"  the  young  fellow  pleaded. 

"You'll  be  sure  enough  ill  if  you  don't  watch 
out.  I'll  gamble  on  that.  Onload  yore  tale  like 
shot  off'n  a  shovel.  Quit  yore  whinin'.  I  got  no 
time  for  it." 

Arthur  told  his  story.  The  cattleman  fired  at 
him  crisp,  keen  questions.  He  dragged  from  the 
trembling  youth  the  when,  where,  and  how  of  the 
robbery.  What  kind  of  pilgrim  was  this  fellow 


Oh,  You  Tex!  77 

Moore?  Was  he  tall?  Short?  Dark?  Bearded? 
Young?  Old?  What  were  the  masked  men  like? 
Did  they  use  any  names?  Did  he  see  their  horses? 
Which  way  did  they  go? 

The  messenger  made  lame  answers.  Mostly  he 
could  only  say,  "I  don't  know." 

:<  You're  a  damned  poor  apology  for  a  man  — 
not  worth  the  powder  to  blow  you  up.  You  had  n't 
the  sand  to  fight  for  the  money  entrusted  to  you, 
nor  the  nerve  to  face  me  after  you  had  lost  it. 
Get  out  of  here.  Vamos  !  Don't  ever  let  me  hear 
yore  smooth,  glib  tongue  again." 

The  words  of  Wadley  stung  like  hail.  Arthur 
was  thin-skinned;  he  wanted  the  good  opinion  of 
all  those  with  whom  he  came  in  contact.,  and  es- 
pecially that  of  this  man.  Like  a  whipped  cur  he 
crept  away  and  hid  himself  in  the  barn  loft,  alone 
with  his  soul -wounds. 

From  its  window  he  watched  the  swift  bustle 
of  preparation  for  the  pursuit.  Wadley  himself, 
big  and  vigorous  to  the  last  masculine  inch  of 
him,  was  the  dominant  figure.  He  gave  curt  or- 
ders to  the  members  of  the  posse,  arranged  for 
supplies  to  be  forwarded  to  a  given  point,  and 
outlined  plans  of  action.  In  the  late  afternoon 
the  boy  in  the  loft  saw  them  ride  away,  a  dozen 
lean,  long-bodied  men  armed  to  the  limit.  With  all 
his  heart  the  watcher  wished  he  could  be  like  one 
of  them,  ready  for  any  emergency  that  the  rough- 
and-tumble  life  of  the  frontier  might  develop. 


78  Oh,  You  Tex! 

In  every  fiber  of  his  jarred  being  he  was  sore. 
He  despised  himself  for  his  failure  to  measure  up 
to  the  standard  of  manhood  demanded  of  him  by 
his  environment.  Twice  now  he  had  failed.  The 
memory  of  his  first  failure  still  scorched  his  soul. 
During  ghastly  hours  of  many  nights  he  had  lived 
over  that  moment  when  he  had  shown  the  white 
feather  before  Ramona  Wadley.  He  had  run  for 
his  life  and  left  her  alone  to  face  a  charging  bull. 
It  was  no  excuse  to  plead  with  himself  that  he 
could  have  done  nothing  for  her  if  he  had  stayed. 
At  least  he  could  have  pushed  her  to  one  side 
and  put  himself  in  the  path  of  the  enraged  ani- 
mal. The  loss  of  the  money  was  different.  It  had 
been  due  not  wholly  to  lack  of  nerve,  but  in  part 
at  least  to  bad  judgment.  Surely  there  was  some- 
thing to  be  said  for  his  inexperience.  Wadley 
ought  not  to  have  sent  him  alone  on  such  an  er- 
rand, though  of  course  he  had  sent  him  because 
he  was  the  last  man  anybody  was  likely  to  sus- 
pect of  carrying  treasure.  .  .  . 

Late  that  night  Ridley  crept  out,  bought  sup- 
plies, saddled  his  horse,  and  slipped  into  the 
wilderness.  He  was  still  writhing  with  self-con- 
tempt. There  was  a  futile  longing  in  his  soul  for 
oblivion  to  blot  out  his  misery. 


CHAPTER  XI 

ONE  TO  FOUR 

THROUGH  the  great  gray  desert  with  its  freak- 
ish effects  of  erosion  a  rider  had  moved  steadily 
in  the  hours  of  star-strewn  darkness.  He  had 
crossed  the  boundary  of  that  No  Man's  Land 
which  ran  as  a  neutral  strip  between  Texas  and 
its  neighbor  and  was  claimed  by  each.  Since  the 
courts  had  as  yet  recognized  the  rights  of  nei- 
ther litigant  there  was  properly  no  State  juris- 
diction here.  Therefore  those  at  outs  with  the  law 
fled  to  this  strip  and  claimed  immunity. 

In  the  Panhandle  itself  law  was  a  variable 
quantity.  Its  counties  had  been  laid  out  and 
named,  but  not  organized.  For  judicial  purposes 
they  were  attached  to  Wheeler  County.  Even  the 
Rangers  did  not  pretend  to  police  this  district. 
When  they  wanted  a  man  they  went  in  and  got  him. 

The  rider  swung  at  last  from  his  saddle  and 
dropped  the  bridle  reins  to  the  ground.  He  crept 
forward  to  some  long,  flat  sheep-sheds  that  bulked 
dimly  in  the  night  shadows.  Farther  back,  he 
could  just  make  out  the  ghost  of  a  dwelling-hut. 
Beyond  that,  he  knew,  was  a  Mexican  village  of 
three  or  four  houses.  A  windmill  reared  its  gaunt 
frame  in  the  corral.  A  long  trough  was  supplied 
by  it  with  water  for  the  sheep. 


80  Oh,  You  Tex! 

The  night-rider  dipped  a  bucket  of  water  from 
the  tank  that  fed  the  trough!,  He  carried  it  to  the 
gate  of  the  corral  and  poured  it  slowly  into  the 
fine  dust  made  by  the  sharp  feet  of  the  sheep, 
mixing  the  water  and  dust  to  a  thick  paste  with 
the  end  of  an  old  branding-iron.  He  brought 
bucket  after  bucket  of  water  until  he  had  pre- 
pared a  bed  of  smooth  mud  of  the  proper  con- 
sistency. 

Before  he  had  quite  finished  his  preparation  a 
dog  inside  the  adobe  hut  began  to  bark  vio- 
lently. The  interloper  slipped  over  the  fence  and 
retreated  to  the  darkness  of  the  barranca. 

From  the  direction  of  the  hut  men  poured. 
The  one  crouching  in  the  chaparral  heard  voices. 
He  made  out  a  snatch  or  two  of  talk  in  Spanish. 
The  men  were  explaining  to  themselves  that  the 
dog  must  have  been  barking  at  a  wolf  or  a  coyote. 
Presently  they  trooped  back  into  the  house.  Si- 
lence fell  again  over  the  night. 

The  man  in  the  chaparral  once  more  crept  for- 
ward and  climbed  the  fence.  He  made  straight 
for  the  entrance  of  the  corral.  Carefully  he  ex- 
amined the  footprints  written  in  the  bed  of  mud 
he  had  prepared.  One  after  another  he  studied 
them.  Some  had  been  crossed  out  or  blotted  by 
subsequent  prints,  but  a  few  were  perfect.  One  of 
these  he  scrutinized  for  a  long  time,  measuring 
its  dimensions  with  a  tape-line  from  toe  to  heel, 
amass  tlae  ball  of  the  foot,  the  instep,  and  the 


Oh,  You  Tex!  81 

bed.  When  at  last  he  straightened  up  his  eyes 
were  shining  with  satisfaction.  He  had  found 
what  he  wanted. 

Once  more  the  dog  was  uneasy  with  growlings. 
The  man  retreated  from  the  corral,  returned  to 
his  horse,  and  rode  away  across  the  mesa.  A 
quarter  of  an  hour  later  he  unsaddled,  hobbled 
lids  horse,  and  rolled  up  in  a  blanket.  Immedi- 
ately he  fell  into  sound  sleep. 

It  was  broad  day  when  he  wakened.  The  young 
morning  sun  bathed  him  in  warmth.  He  lighted  a 
fire  of  mesquite  and  boiled  coffee.  In  his  frying- 
pan  he  cooked  flapjacks,  after  he  had  heated  the 
jerked  beef  which  he  carried  in  his  saddlebags. 
When  he  had  eaten,  he  washed  his  pan  with 
clean,  fine  sand,  repacked  his  supplies,  and  rode 
forward  past  the  sheep-corral  to  the  village. 

In  front  of  a  mud-and-log  tendejon  two  Mexi- 
cans lounged.  They  watched  him  with  silent 
hostility  as  he  dismounted,  tied  his  horse  to  a 
snubbing-post  worn  shiny  as  a  razor-strap,  and 
sauntered  into  the  tendejon.  This  stranger  wore 
the  broad-rimmed  felt  hat  and  the  buckskin  suit 
of  a  Ranger,  and  none  of  that  force  was  welcome 
here. 

Back  of  a  flimsy  counter  was  a  shelf  upon 
which  were  half  a  dozen  bottles  and  some  glasses. 
One  could  buy  here  mescal,  American  whiskey, 
and  even  wine  of  a  sort.  The  owner  of  the  place, 
a  white  man,  was  talking  to  a  young  Mexican 


82  Oh,  You  Tex! 

at  the  time  the  Ranger  entered.  The  proprietor 
looked  hard  at  the  Ranger  with  dislike  he  did  not 
try  to  veil.  The  Mexican  in  front  of  the  bar  was  a 
slim  young  man  with  quick  eyes  and  an  intelli- 
gent face.  The  Ranger  recognized  him  at  once  as 
Tony  Alviro. 

"  Buenos  I "  the  Ranger  said  with  the  most  cas- 
ual of  nods.  "I've  come  to  take  you  back  with 
me,  Tony." 

The  other  two  Mexicans  had  followed  the 
Ranger  into  the  room.  The  Texan  stood  sideways 
at  the  end  of  the  bar,  quite  at  his  ease,  the  right 
forearm  resting  on  the  counter  lightly.  Not  far 
from  his  fingers  the  butt  of  a  revolver  projected 
from  a  holster.  In  his  attitude  was  no  threat 
whatever,  but  decidedly  a  warning. 

The  four  men  watched  him  steadily. 

"No,  Senor  Roberts,"  answered  Alviro.  "You 
can  touch  me  not.  I'm  out  of  Texas." 

"Mebbeso,  Tony.  But  till  I  get  further  orders, 
this  is  Texas  for  me.  You're  goin'  back  with  me." 

Rangers  and  outlaws  held  different  views 
about  this  strip  of  land.  To  the  latter  it  was  a 
refuge;  law  ended  at  its  border;  they  could  not 
be  touched  here  by  State  constabulary.  But  the 
Ranger  did  not  split  hairs.  He  was  law  in  the 
Panhandle,  and  if  the  man  he  wanted  fled  to  dis- 
puted territory  the  Ranger  went  after  him. 

"Not  so,"  argued  Alviro.  "If  you  arrest  me 
in  Texas,  I  say  "Bad  luck,'  but  I  go  wiz  you. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  83 

There  you  are  an  offizer,  an'  I  am  oblige'  sur- 
render. But  in  thees  No  Man's  Land,  we  are  man 
to  man.  I  refuse." 

The  lift  of  excitement  was  in  the  voice  of  the 
young  Mexican.  He  knew  the  record  of  the  Texas 
Rangers.  They  took  their  men  in  dead  or  alive. 
This  particular  member  of  the  force  was  an  un- 
usually tough  nut  to  crack.  In  the  heart  of  Tony 
was  the  drench  of  a  chill  wave.  He  was  no  cow- 
ard, but  he  knew  he  had  no  such  unflawed  nerve 
as  this  man.  Through  his  mind  there  ran  a  com- 
mon laconic  report  handed  in  by  Rangers  return- 
ing from  an  assignment  —  "Killed  while  resist- 
ing arrest."  Alviro  did  not  want  Ranger  Roberts 
to  write  that  about  him. 

"Better  not,  Alviro.  I  have  a  warrant  for  your 
arrest." 

The  Texan  did  not  raise  his  voice.  He  made  no 
movement  to  draw  a  gun.  But  to  Tony,  fasci- 
nated by  his  hard,  steel-gray  eyes,  came  the  cer- 
tainty that  he  must  go  or  fight.  They  were  four 
to  one  against  the  Ranger,  but  that  would  not 
make  the  least  difference.  In  the  curt  alternative 
of  this  clean-jawed  young  officer  was  cold  finality. 

The  worried  eyes  of  the  fugitive  referred  to  his 
companions.  They  had  agreed  to  stand  by  him, 
and  he  knew  that  if  it  came  to  a  fight  they  would. 
But  he  wanted  more  than  that.  His  glance  was 
an  appeal  for  one  of  them  to  make  his  decision 
for  him. 


84  Oh,  You  Tex! 

The  voice  of  the  tendejon-keeper  interjected 
itself  smoothly.  "You've  played  yore  hand  out, 
friend.  We  're  four  to  one.  You  go  back  an'  report 
nothin'  doin'." 

Roberts  looked  at  the  man,  and  a  little  shiver 
ran  down  the  barkeeper's  spine.  "There  won't  be 
four  of  you  when  we  get  through  arguin'  this, 
amigo,  if  we  ever  start,"  the  Ranger  suggested 
gently. 

The  proprietor  of  the  place  dropped  his  hand 
to  the  butt  of  his  gun.  But  he  did  not  draw.  Some 
deep,  wise  instinct  warned  him  to  go  slow.  He 
knew  the  others  would  take  their  cue  from  him. 
If  he  threw  down  the  gage  of  battle  the  room 
would  instantly  become  a  shambles.  How  many 
of  them  would  again  pass  alive  through  the  door 
nobody  knew.  He  was  a  man  who  had  fought 
often,  but  he  could  not  quite  bring  himself  to 
such  a  decision  while  those  chilled-steel  eyes 
bored  into  his.  Anyhow,  the  game  was  not  worth 
the  candle. 

"What  is  it  you  want  Tony  for?"  he  tempo- 
rized, playing  for  time  and  any  chance  that  might 
arise. 

"For  killin'  Rutherford  Wadley  last  month." 

"A  mistake.  Tony  has  been  here  since  the  full 
of  the  moon." 

"Oh,  no.  He  was  at  the  dance  on  Tomichi 
Creek.  He  tried  to  knife  young  Wadley.  He  left 
the  house  right  after  him." 


Oh,  You  Tex!      >  85 

"I  left  —  si,  senor  —  but  to  come  here,"  cried 
the  accused  man. 

"To  follow  Wadley,  Tony.  You  jumped  a 
camper  that  night  an'  did  n't  know  it.  He  saw 
you." 

"Wadley  was  a  dog,  but  I  did  not  kill  him/' 
Alviro  said  gloomily. 

"That  so?  You  were  on  the  spot.  You  left 
tracks.  I  measured  'em.  They  were  the  same 
tracks  you  left  out  in  the  corral  five  hours  ago.'* 

Tony's  eyes  flashed  with  a  sudden  discovery. 
"The  mud  —  you  meex  it  to  get  my  footprints." 

"You're  a  good  guesser." 

Alviro  threw  up  his  hands.  "I  was  there.  It 
iss  true.  But  I  did  not  kill  the  gringo  dog.  I  was 
too  late." 

"You  can  tell  me  all  about  that  on  the  way 
back." 

"If  I  go  back  they  will  hang  me." 

"You '11  get  a  fair  trial." 

"By  a  gringo  jury  before  a  gringo  judge."  The 
tone  of  Alviro  was  more  than  skeptical.  It  was 
bitter  with  the  sense  of  racial  injustice. 

"I  can't  argue  that  with  you,  Tony.  My  busi- 
ness is  to  take  you  to  Tascosa.  That's  what  I'm 
here  for." 

The  American  behind  the  bar  spoke  again. 
"Listens  fine!  He's  a  Mexican,  ain't  he?  They 
claim  he  killed  a  white  man.  Well,  then,  the  mob 
would  take  him  from  you  an'  lynch  him  sure/' 


86  Oh,  You  Tex! 

"The  Rangers  don't  give  up  their  prisoners, 
my  friend.  They  take  'em  an'  they  keep  'em. 
You'd  ought  to  know  that." 

The  tendejon-keepeT  flushed.  He  had  been 
dragged  to  justice  once  by  one  of  the  force. 

The  eyes  of  the  four  consulted  again.  They 
were  still  hesitant.  The  shame  of  letting  this 
youth  take  from  them  their  companion  without 
a  fight  was  like  a  burr  under  a  saddle-blanket  to 
a  bronco.  But  after  all,  the  Ranger  stood  for  law. 
If  they  killed  him,  other  Rangers  would  come  to 
avenge  his  death. 

When  men  are  in  doubt  the  one  who  is  sure 
dominates  the  situation.  The  eye  of  Roberts 
carried  the  compulsion  of  a  deadly  weapon.  His 
voice  was  crisp. 

"Come  here,  Tony,"  he  ordered,  and  his  fin- 
gers slipped  into  the  pocket  of  his  coat. 

Alviro  looked  at  him  for  a  long  second  — • 
swore  to  himself  that  he  would  not  come  —  and 
came. 

"Hold  out  yore  hands." 

The  Mexican  set  his  will  to  refuse.  There  was 
still  time  to  elect  to  fight.  He  told  himself  that 
was  what  he  was  going  to  do.  But  he  could  not 
hold  his  own  in  that  steady  battle  of  the  eyes. 
His  hands  moved  forward  —  empty. 

A  moment,  and  the  Ranger  had  slipped  and 
fastened  the  handcuffs  on  his  wrists. 

Roberts  had  won.  Psychologically  it  was  now 


Oh,  You  Tex!  87 

too  late  for  the  others  to  resort  to  arms.  The 
tendejon-keeper  recognized  this  with  a  shrug  that 
refused  responsibility  for  the  outcome.  After  all, 
Tony  had  made  his  own  decision.  He  had  chosen 
to  take  his  chances  in  Tascosa  rather  than  on  the 
spot  with  the  Ranger. 

"Saddle  Tony's  horse,"  ordered  Roberts,  look- 
ing at  one  of  the  Mexicans. 

The  man  growled  something  in  his  native 
tongue,  but  none  the  less  he  moved  toward  the 
corral. 

Within  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  Ranger  and 
his  prisoner  were  on  their  way.  Two  days  later 
Roberts  delivered  his  man  to  the  deputy  sheriff 
who  had  charge  of  the  sod-house  jail  in  the  little 
town. 

"There's  a  message  here  for  you  from  Cap 
Ellison,"  the  deputy  said.  "He  wants  you  to  go 
to  Clarendon.  Says  you  were  to  jog  on  down  soon 
as  you  show  up  here." 

"All  right,  Snark." 

He  rode  down  next  day,  changed  horses  at  the 
halfway  station,  and  reached  Clarendon  early  in 
the  morning.  Ellison  had  been  called  to  Mobee- 
tie,  but  left  instructions  for  him  to  await  his  re- 
turn. 

The  semi-weekly  stage  brought  two  days  later 
a,  letter  to  Captain  Ellison  from  Snark.  Jack 
Roberts,  obeying  office  instructions,  opened  the 
mail.  The  letter  said: 


88  Oh,  You  Tex! 

D3BSB  CAP, 

They  are  aiming  to  lynch  that  Mexican  Roberts  brought 
in.  Hie  Dinsmore  outfit  is  stirring  up  the  town.  Send  a 
compaay  of  your  Rangers,  for  God's  sake,  quick. 

Respectably  yours 

JIM  SNARK 

Jack  Roberts  was  the  only  Ranger  in  town. 
He  glanced  at  the  clock.  There  was  just  time  to 
catch  the  stage  to  Tascosa.  He  reached  for  his 
guns  and  his  hat. 


CHAPTER  XII 

TEX  REARRANGES  THE  SEATING 

THE  Tascosa  stage  was  full.  Its  passengers  were 
"packed  like  Yanks  at  Libby  Prison,"  according 
to  one  of  them,  an  ex-Confederate  who  had 
drifted  West  after  the  war.  They  were  of  the 
varied  types  common  to  the  old  Southwest  —  a 
drover,  a  cattle-buyer,  a  cowpuncher  looking  for 
a  job,  a  smart  salesman  from  St.  Louis,  and 
one  young  woman.  Beside  the  driver  on  the  box 
sat  a  long-bodied  man  in  buckskin  with  a  clean 
brown  jaw  and  an  alert,  sardonic  eye. 

The  salesman,  a  smooth,  good-looking  fellow 
whose  eye  instinctively  rested  on  attractive 
women,  made  inquiries  of  Joe  Johnson's  old 
trooper. 

"Who's  the  damsel?" 

"Which?" 

"The  girl.  She's  a  pippin."  His  possessive  eye 
gloated  on  the  young  woman  in  front.  "She 
did  n't  learn  how  to  dress  in  this  neck  of  the 
woods,  either.  Betcha  she's  from  New  Orleans  or 
St.  Louis." 

The  old  warrior  helped  himself  to  a  chew  of 
tobacco.  "You  lose.  She's  Clint  Wadley's  daugh- 
ter, an*  he's  an  old-timer.  Knocked  the  bark 
off  n  this  country,  Clint  did.  I  used  to  know  him 


90  Oh,  You  Tex! 

when  he  was  takin'  the  hides  off  the  buffaloes. 
Got  his  start  that  way,  I  reckon.  Clint's  outfit 
got  six  thousand  tongues  in  six  months  oncet. 
Pickled  the  tongues  an'  sold  'em  for  three  cents 
apiece,  by  gum.  Delivered  the  hides  at  Clarendon 
for  one-fifty  straight  on  contract." 

"I've  heard  of  Wadley,"  the  salesman  said, 
"What's  the  kid  going  to  Tascosa  for?" 

"Goin'  to  stay  awhile  with  her  aunt,  I  'low. 
Her  brother  was  killed  recent." 

"I've  heard  about  that,  too.  They  caught  the 
fellow,  did  n't  they  —  the  one  that  did  it?" 

"They  got  a  Mexican  jailed  for  it.  I  dunno 
whether  he  done  it  or  not.  That  young  Ranger  on 
the  box  run  him  down." 

"That  kid  in  buckskin?  "  sneered  the  city  man. 

The  ex-Confederate  bristled  at  the  tone  rather 
than  the  words.  He  happened  to  be  a  friend  of  the 
youth  mentioned. 

"I'll  follow  Jack's  dust  any  day  of  the  week. 
He's  one  hell-poppin'  rooster.  No  better  man 
rides  leather.  When  I  druv  a  wagon  oncet  gath- 
erin'  bones  — " 

"  Gathering  bones  ?  " 

?"Sure —  buffalo-bones,  for  fertilizer.  Well, 
that  same  Jack  Roberts  yanked  me  out  o'  the 
Canadian  when^I  was  drowndin'.  Took  a  big 
chance,  too." 

"What  about  this  Mexican?  Are  they  going  to 
hang  him?" 


Oh,  You  Tex!  91 

"I  reckon.  He's  in  a  soddy  up  at  Tascosa.  I 
done  heard  they're  aimin'  to  tear  it  down  and 
hang  him  to  a  wagon-tongue." 

The  black-haired  traveling  man  caressed  his 
little  mustache  and  watched  the  girl  boldly.  Her 
face  was  a  little  wan,  and  in  the  deep  eyes  was 
shadowed  ajieartache.  But  it  had  been  impossi- 
ble even  for  grief  to  submerge  the  sweet  youth  in 
her.  There  were  lights  in  her  soft,  wavy  hair,  and 
the  line  of  her  exquisite  throat  would  have  de- 
lighted a  sculptor.  The  slim  figure  was  exquisitely 
poised,  though  just  now  it  suggested  weariness. 

When  the  stage  stopped  at  noon  for  dinner  the 
salesman  made  it  a  point  to  sit  beside  her  at  the 
long  table.  His  persistent  attentions  to  the  girl 
made  the  delicate  color  of  her  cheek  deepen.  She 
was  too  shy,  too  unused  to  the  world,  to  know 
how  to  suppress  his  audacities  effectively.  But  it 
was  plain  to  one  young  man  sitting  at  the  oppo- 
site end  of  the  table  that  the  familiarities  of  the 
man  were  unwelcome. 

While  they  were  waiting  outside  for  the 
change-horses  to  be  hitched,  the  Ranger  made  a 
request  of  the  old  soldier. 

"Wish  you'd  swap  places  with  me,  Sam." 

"Sure.  I'd  a  heap  ruther  sit  outside.  Say,  that 
drummer  had  n't  ought  to  worry  Miss  Ramona. 

1  There  was  no  timber  in  the  Panhandle.  The  first  man  ever 
hanged  in  the  short-grass  country  was  suspended  from  a  propped- 
up  wagon-tongue. 


92  Oh,  You  Tex! 

She's  not  feelin'  very  peart,  anyhow.  I  reckon 
she  set  the  world  an'  all  by  that  scalawag  brother 
of  hers." 

"He's  not  goin*  toTtrouble  her  any  more, 
Sam." 

The  ex-Confederate  looked  at  the  narrow- 
flanked  young  man  with  an  alert  question  in  his 
eye.  If  "Tex"  Roberts  was  going  to  take  a  hand, 
the  salesman  was  certainly  riding  for  a  fall. 

The  salesman  had  made  up  his  mind  to  sit  be- 
side Miss  Wadley  for  the  rest  of  the  journey.  He 
emerged  from  the  dining-room  at  her  heels  and 
was  beside  her  to  offer  a  hand  into  the  stage. 

Ramona  gave  him  a  look  of  reproach  and  en- 
treaty. She  was  near  tears.  The  man  from  St. 
Louis  smiled  confidently. 

"I  know  a  good  thing  when  I  see  it,"  he  whis- 
pered. "I'll  ride  beside  you  and  keep  off  the 
rough-necks,  Miss  Wadley." 

A  heavy  heel  smashed  down  on  the  toes  of  his 
neat  shoe  and  crunched  round.  A  hard  elbow 
bumped  up  forcefully  against  his  chin  as  if  by 
accident.  A  muscular  hand  caught  the  loose  fat 
of  his  plump  stomach  and  tightened  like  a  vise. 
The  dapper  salesman  opened  his  mouth  in  a 
shriek  of  pain. 

"Indigestion?"  asked  the  Ranger  sympatheti- 
cally, and  his  sinewy  fingers  twisted  in  the  cush- 
ion of  flesh  they  gripped.  "I'll  get  you  somethin9 
good  for  it  in  a  minute." 


Oh,  You  Text  93 

Roberts  flung  the_  man  back  and  rearranged 
the  seating  inside  so  that  the  drover  sat  beside 
Ramona  as  before  dinner.  Then  he  tucked  an 
arm  under  that  of  the  St.  Louis  man  and  led 
him  back  into  the  stage  station.  The  salesman 
jerked  along  beside  him  unhappily.  His  wrist, 
wrenched  by  Roberts  in  a  steady  pressure  of 
well-trained  muscles,  hurt  exquisitely.  When  at 
last  he  was  flung  helplessly  into  a  chair,  tears  of 
pain  and  rage  filled  his  eyes.  Never  in  the  course 
of  a  cushioned  and  pampered  life  had  he  been  so 
manhandled. 

"My  God,  you  brute,  you've  killed  me!"  he 
sobbed. 

"Sho!  I  haven't  begun  yet.  If  you  take  the 
stage  to-day  to  Tascosa  I'm  goin'  to  sit  beside 
you  real  friendly,  an'  we'll  play  like  we  been 
doin'  all  the  way  in  to  town.  It's  just  my  way  of 
bein'  neighborly." 

"I'll  have  the  law  of  you  for  this,"  the  city 
man  howled,  uncertain  which  of  his  injuries  to 
nurse  first. 

"I  would,"  agreed  the  Texan.  "  Well,  so  long, 
if  you  ain't  comin'." 

Roberts  moved  back  with  long,  easy  stride  to 
the  stage.  He  nodded  to  the  driver. 

"All  ready,  Hank.  The  drummer  ain't  feelin* 
well.  He'll  stay  here  overnight.  I  reckon  I'll  keep 
my  own  seat  outside,  Sam."  And  Roberts  swung 
himself  up. 


94  Oh,  You  Tex! 

The  old  soldier  climbed  in,  chuckling  to  him 
self.  It  had  been  the  neatest  piece  of  work  he  has 
ever  seen.  The  big  body  of  the  cowboy  had  been 
between  Ramona  and  her  tormentor,  so  that  she 
did  not  know  what  had  taken  place.  She  did 
know,  however,  that  the  woman-killer  had  been 
obliterated  swiftly  from  her  path. 

"Did  you  ever  see  anything  like  the  way  he 
got  shet  o'  that  drummer?"  Sam  asked  his 
neighbor  in  a  whisper.  "I'll  bet  that  doggoned 
masher  will  be  hard  to  find  when  Jack 's  on  the 
map.  He's  some  go-getter  boy,  Jack  Roberts  is.'* 

Meanwhile  Jack  was  flagellating  himself.  It 
was  his  bad  luck  always  to  be  associated  in  the 
mind  of  Miss  Wadley  with  violence.  He  had 
beaten  up  the  brother  whom  she  was  now  mourn- 
ing. He  had  almost  been  the  cause  of  her  own 
death.  Now  a  third  time  she  saw  him  in  the  role 
of  a  trouble-maker.  To  her,  of  course,  he  could  be 
nothing  but  a  bully  and  a  bad  lot.  The  least  he 
could  do  was  to  make  himself  as  inconspicuous  as 
possible  for  the  rest  of  the  journey. 

Man  may  shuffle  the  pack,  but  when  all  is  done 
woman  is  likely  to  cut  the  cards.  The  driver 
stopped  at  Tin  Cup  Creek  to  water  the  horses. 
To  Jack,  sitting  on  the  box,  came  the  cattle- 
drover  with  orders. 

"The  young  lady  has  somethin'  to  say  to  you, 
Tex.  You're  to  swap  seats  with  me." 

The  lean,  bronzed  young  man  swung  down. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  95 

He  had,  when  he  wished,  a  wooden  face  that 
told  no  tales.  It  said  nothing  now  of  a  tide  of 
blood  flushing  his  veins. 

By  a  little  gesture  the  girl  indicated  the  seat 
beside  her.  Not  till  the  creaking  of  the  moving 
stage  drowned  her  words  did  she  speak.  Her  eyes 
were  dilated  with  excitement. 

"I  overheard  them  talking  in  the  back  seat," 
she  said.  "They  think  there's  going  to  be  a 
lynching  at  Tascosa  —  that  the  mob  is  going  to 
hang  the  Mexican  who  killed  my  brother.  Are 
you  going  to  let  them  do  it?" 

"Not  in  this  year  of  our  Lord,  Miss  Wadley," 
he  answered  evenly. 

"Can  you  stop  them?" 

"That's  what  I  draw  a  dollar  a  day  for." 

"You  mustn't  let  them  do  it!"  she  cried,  a 
little  wildly.  "Let  the  law  punish  him!" 

"Suits  me.  I '11  try  to  persuade  the  boys  to  look 
at  it  that  way." 

"But  what  can  you  do?  You're  only  a  boy." 

1  With  a  grim  little  smile  he  paraphrased  Roy 

Bean's  famous  phrase:  "I'm  law  east  of  the  Pe- 

cos  right  now,  Miss  Wadley.  Don't  you  worry. 

The  Dinsmores  won't  get  him  if  I  can  help  it." 

"I  might  speak  to  my  father,"  she  went  on, 
thinking  aloud.  "But  he's  so  bitter  I'm  afraid 
he  won't  do  anything." 

"He  wiU  after  I've  talked  with  him." 

Her  anxious  young  eyes  rested  in  his  clear, 


96  Oh,  You  Tex! 

steady  gaze.  There  was  something  about  this 
youth  that  compelled  confidence.  His  broad- 
shouldered  vigor,  the  virile  strength  so  confi- 
dently reposeful,  were  expressions  of  personality 
rather  than  accidentals  of  physique. 

The  road  dipped  suddenly  into  a  deep  wash 
that  was  almost  a  little  gulch.  There  was  a  grind- 
ing of  brakes,  then  a  sudden  lurch  that  threw 
Ramona  against  the  shoulder  of  the  Ranger. 

"The  brake's  done  bust,"  she  heard  the  ex- 
Confederate  say. 

Another  violent  swing  flung  Ramona  outward. 
The  horses  were  off  the  road,  and  the  coach 
swayed  ominously  on  two  wheels.  The  girl 
caught  at  the  Ranger's  hand  and  clung  to  it. 
Gently  he  covered  her  hand  with  his  other  one, 
released  his  fingers,  and  put  a  strong  arm  round 
her  shoulders. 

Hank's  whip  snaked  out  across  the  backs  of 
the  wheelers.  He  flung  at  his  horses  a  torrent  of 
abuse.  The  stage  reached  the  bottom  of  the  wash 
in  a  succession  of  lurches.  Then,  as  suddenly  as 
the  danger  had  come  upon  them,  it  had  passed; 
the  stage  was  safely  climbing  the  opposite  side  of 
the  ravine. 

The  Ranger's  arm  slipped  from  the  shoulders 
of  the  girl.  Her  hand  crept  from  under  his.  He 
did  not  look  at  her,  but  he  knew  that  a  shell-pink 
wave  had  washed  into  the  wan  face. 

The  slim  bosom  of  the  girl  rose  and  fell  fast. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  97 

Already  she  was  beginning  to  puzaie  over  the 
difficulties  of  a  clear-cut  right  and  wrong,  to  dis- 
cover that  no  unshaded  line  of  cleavage  differ- 
entiates them  sometimes.  Surely  this  young  fel- 
low could  not  be  all  bad.  Of  course  she  did  not 
like  him.  She  was  quite  sure  of  that.  He  was 
known  as  a  tough  citizen.  He  had  attacked  and 
beaten  brutally  her  brother  Rutherford  —  the 
wild  brother  whose  dissipations  she  had  wept 
and  prayed  over,  and  whose  death  she  was  now 
mourning.  Yet  Fate  kept  throwing  him  in  her 
way  to  do  her  services.  He  had  saved  her  life.  He 
had  adroitly  —  somehow,  she  did  not  quite  know 
in  what  way  —  rid  her  of  an  offensive  fellow 
traveler.  She  had  just  asked  a  favor  of  him,  and 
there  was  yet  another  she  must  ask. 

Ramona  put  off  her  request  to  the  last  mo- 
ment. At  Tascosa  she  left  her  purse  in  the 
stage  seat  and  discovered  it  after  the  coach 
had  started  to  the  barn. 

"My  purse.  I  left  it  in  the  seat,"  she  cried. 

The  announcement  was  made  to  the  world  at 
large,  but  it  was  intended  for  a  particular  pair  of 
ears  set  close  to  a  small  head  of  wavy,  sun-red- 
dened hair.  The  owner  of  them  ran  to  the  stage 
and  recovered  the  purse.  By  the  time  he  reached 
Ramona,  the  rest  of  the  party  were  inside  the 
post-office. 

She  thanked  him,  then  looked  at  him  quickly 
with  an  effect  of  shy  daring. 


98  Oh,  You  Tex! 

"You  travel  a  good  deal,  don't  you  —  about 
the  country?" 

"Considerable." 

"I  —  I  wonder  if  — "  She  took  courage  from 
his  friendly  smile.  "I'm  worried  about  Mr.  Rid- 
ley —  for  fear  something  has  happened  to  him." 

"You  mean  an  accident?"  he  asked  gently. 

"I  don't  know."  Her  cheeks  flew  color-signals 
of  embarrassment.  "My  father  was  harsh  to  him. 
He's  very  sensitive.  I  feel  —  sort  of  responsible. 
He  might  do  something  foolish." 

"I  don't  reckon  he  will.  But  I'll  sure  keep  an 
eye  out  for  him." 

She  gave  him  her  little  hand  gratefully,  then 
remembered  what  he  had  done  to  her  brother 
and  withdrew  it  hastily  from  his  grip.  In  another 
moment  she  had  passed  into  the  post-office  and 
left  him  alone. 


CHAPTER 

"ONLY  ONE  MOB,  AIN'T  THERE?" 

AFTER  Miss  Wadley  had  disappeared  in  the  post- 
office  a  man  touched  Roberts  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Where  are  the  Rangers  I  sent  for?  "  he  asked. 

"Here  I  am,  Snark." 

"You  did  n't  come  alone?" 

"Captain  Ellison  was  out  of  town.  The  rest  of 
the  force  was  away  on  assignment.  I  could  n't 
reach  any  of  'em." 

The  deputy  sheriff  broke  out  in  excited  annoy- 
ance. "All  right!  I  wash  my  hands  of  it.  They  can 
lynch  the  Mexican  soon  as  they've  a  mind  to. 
Let  'em  go  to  it.  Here  I  send  for  a  company  of 
Rangers,  an'  one  kid  shows  up.  What  in  Mexico 
can  you  do  alone?" 

"I  would  n't  say  alone.  You're  here,  Snark." 

"I'm  not  goin'  to  lift  a  hand  —  not  a  hand." 

"Sure  it's  necessary?  What  makes  you  thinl 
they're  goin'  to  lynch  Alviro?" 

"They  don't  make  any  bones  of  it.  Everybody 
knows  it.  The  Dinsmore  gang  is  in  town  stirrin' 
up  feelin'.  You  might  as  well  have  stayed  away. 
There's  not  a  thing  you  can  do." 

"I  reckon  mebbe  we  can  figure  a  way  to  save 
Tony,"  answered  the  Ranger  easily. 

The  deputy  voiced  his  impatience.  "Yore  talk 


100  Oh,  You  Tex! 

sounds  plumb  foolish  to  me.  Don't  you  get  it? 
We're  not  dealin'  with  one  or  two  men.  Half  the 
town  is  in  this  thing." 

"I  promised  Tony  there  would  be  nothin'  of 
that  sort." 

"You  can't  handle  a  mob  all  by  yoreself,  can 
you?"  asked  Snark  sarcastically.  "There's  only 
one  of  you,  I  reckon." 

The  little  flicker  in  the  Ranger's  eye  was  not 
wholly  amusement.  "There's  goin'  to  be  only 
one  mob,  too,  ain't  there?"  he  drawled. 

"You  can't  slip  him  out  unnoticed,  if  that's 
yore  idee.  They  've  got  watchers  round  the  jail," 
the  deputy  went  on. 

"I  shan't  try." 

"Then  you'll  let  'em  hang  him?" 

"Oh,  no!" 

"What  in  hell  do  you  mean  to  do,  then?'* 

Roberts  told  him,  in  part.  The  deputy  shook 
his  head  vehemently. 

"Can't  be  done.  First  place,  you  can't  get 
Wadley  to  do  it.  He  won't  lift  a  hand  to  stop  this 
hangin'.  Second  place,  he  could  n't  stop  it  if  he 
wanted  to.  Folks  in  Tascosa  ain't  a  bit  gun-shy, 
an'  right  now  they  've  got  their  necks  bowed.  An' 
this  Dinsmore  gang  —  they  '11  eat  you  alive  if 
you  get  in  their  way." 

"Mebbeso.  You  can't  always  be  sure.  I've  got 
one  card  up  my  sleeve  I  have  n't  mentioned  to 
you." 


Oh,  You  Tex!  101 

"If  you  want  my  opinion  — " 

The  Ranger  cut  him  off  short.  "I  don't, 
Snark.  Not  right  now.  I  'm  too  busy  to  listen  to 
it.  I  want  to  know  just  one  thing  of  you.  Will  you 
have  the  horses  right  where  I  want  'em  when  I 
want  'em?" 

"You're  the  doc,"  acknowledged  the  deputy 
grudgingly.  "They  '11  be  there,  but  just  the  same 
I  think  it 's  a  fool  play.  You  can't  get  away  with 
it." 

Jack  asked  a  question.  "Where  am  T  most 
likely  to  find  Wadley?" 

"At  McGuffey's  store.  It's  a  block  this-a-way 
and  a  block  that-a-way."  He  indicated  direc- 
tions with  his  hand. 

Wadley  was  not  among  those  who  sat  on  the 
porch  of  the  general  store  known  as  McGuffey's 
Emporium.  He  had  just  gone  to  his  sister's  house 
to  meet  his  daughter  Ramona,  of  whose  arrival 
he  had  received  notice  by  a  boy.  Roberts  fol- 
lowed him. 

In  answer  to  the  Ranger's  "Hello,  the  house!" 
the  cattleman  came  out  in  his  shirt-sleeves. 

Jack  cut  straight  to  business. 

"I've  come  to  see  you  about  that  Mexican 
Alviro,  Mr.  Wadley.  Is  it  true  they're  goin'  to 
lynch  him?" 

The  hard  eyes  of  the  grizzled  Texan  looked  full 
at  Roberts.  This  young  fellow  was  the  one  who 
had  bea&en  his  son  and  later  had  had  the  impu- 


102  Oh,  You  Tex! 

dence  to  burn  as  a  spill  for  a  cigarette  the  hun- 
dred-dollar bill  he  had  sent  him. 

"Whyfor  do  you  ask  me  about  it?"  he  de- 
manded harshly. 

"Because  you've  got  to  help  me  stop  this 
thing." 

The  cattleman  laughed  mirthlessly.  "They 
can  go  as  far  as  they  like  for  me.  Suits  me  fine. 
Hangin'  is  too  good  for  him.  That's  all  I've  got 
to  say." 

Already  he  had  refused  the  pleadings  of  his 
daughter,  and  he  had  no  intention  of  letting  this 
young  scalawag  change  his  mind. 

"Are  you  sure  this  Mexican  is  guilty  —  sure 
he's  the  man  who  killed  yore  son,  Mr.  Wadley?" 

"He's  as  guilty  as  hell." 

"I  don't  think  it.  Has  n't  it  ever  struck  you  as 
strange  that  yore  son  was  killed  an'  yore  messen- 
ger Ridley  held  up  the  same  night,  an'  that  the 
two  things  happened  not  many  miles  from  each 
other?" 

"Of  course  it  has.  I'm  no  fool.  What  of  it?" 

"I  've  always  thought  the  same  men  did  both." 

"Young  fellow,  have  you  ever  thought  that 
Ridley  never  was  held  up,  that  it  was  a  fake  rob- 
bery pulled  off  to  deceive  me?  Where  is  Ridley? 
He  lit  out  mighty  sudden  when  he  saw  how  I 
took  it.  He  could  n't  even  tell  me  where  the  hold- 
up happened.  I  never  did  hit  the  trail  of  the  rob- 
bers." 


Oh,  You  Tex!  103 

"It  was  n't  a  fake.  I  can  prove  that." 

"I'm  here  to  be  shown,"  said  the  cattleman 
skeptically. 

"But  first  about  Tony.  It  looks  bad  for  him  on 
the  surface.  I'll  admit  that.  But  — " 

"Don't  talk  to  me  about  my  boy's  murderer, 
Roberts!"  cried  Wadley,  flushing  angrily.  "I'll 
not  do  a  thing  for  him.  I'll  help  those  that  aim 
to  do  justice  on  him." 

"He  did  n't  kill  yore  son." 

"What!  Didn't  you  arrest  him  yoreself  for 
it?" 

"When  I  arrested  him,  I  did  n't  believe  he  had 
done  it.  I  know  it  now.  He's  my  star  witness,  an' 
I  knew  he  would  skip  across  the  border  if  I  let 
him  out." 

"You  can't  convince  me,  but  let's  hear  yore 
fairy  tale.  I  got  to  listen,  I  reckon." 

Jack  told  his  story  in  few  words.  He  explained 
what  he  had  found  at  the  scene  of  the  murder 
and  how  he  had  picked  up  the  trail  of  the  three 
horsemen  who  had  followed  Rutherford  to  the 
place  of  his  death.  He  had  back-tracked  to  the 
camp  of  the  rendezvous  at  the  rim-rock,  and  he 
had  found  there  corroborative  evidence  of  the 
statement  Tony  Alviro  had  made  to  him. 

"What  was  it  he  told  you,  and  what  did  you 
find?" 

The  big  cattleman  looked  at  him  with  a  sus- 
picion ^that  was  akin  to  hostility.  His  son  had 


104  Oh,  You  Tex! 

been  a  ne'er-do-well.  In  his  heart  Waxftey  was 
not  sure  he  had  not  been  worse.  But  he  was  ready 
to  fight  at  the  drop  of  the  hat  any  man  who  dared 
suggest  it.  He  did  not  want  to  listen  to  any  evi- 
dence that  would  lead  him  to  believe  ill  of  the 
son  who  had  gone  wrong. 

"Tony  admits  all  the  evidence  against  him. 
He  did  follow  Rutherford  intendin'  to  kill  him. 
But  when  he  saw  yore  son  strike  straight  across 
country  to  the  cap-rock,  he  trailed  him  to  see 
where  he  was  goin'.  Alviro  had  heard  stories." 

"You  can't  tell  me  anything  against  my  boy. 
I  won't  stand  for  it,"  broke  out  the  tortured 
father. 

The  Ranger  looked  straight  at  him.  "I'm 
goin'  to  tell  you  no  harm  of  him  except  that  he 
kept  bad  company,"  he  said  gently.  "I  reckon 
you  know  that  already." 

"Go  on,"  commanded  the  father  hoarsely. 

"Tony  followed  him  to  the  rim-rock,  an'  on 
the  way  they  jumped  up  the  camper,  though 
Alviro  did  not  know  it.  At  the  rim-rock  Ruther- 
ford met  two  men.  Presently  another  man  joined 
them." 

"Who  were  they?" 

"Alviro  is  n't  dead  sure.  He  climbed  up  to  a 
rock  bluff  back  of  them,  but  it  was  still  dark 
an'  he  could  n't  make  them  out.  Pretty  soon 
Rutherford  found  out  they  had  a  sack  of  gold. 
He  must  have  found  out  where  they  got  it,  too." 


Oh,  You  Tex!  105 

Underneath  the  deep  tan  of  his  cheeks  th«  old- 
timer  whitened.  "So  you're  tryin'  to  tell  me  that 
Hiy  boy  was  one  of  the  gang  that  robbed  my 
messenger!  An'  you're  askin'  me  to  believe  it  on 
the  word  of  a  greaser  with  a  rope  around  his 
neck.  Is  that  it?" 

"No.  They  had  a  quarrel,  but  yore  son  bluffed 
'em  out.  They  gave  the  gold  to  him.  He  saddled 
an'  rode  away  with  it.  On  his  way  back  to  town 
he  was  murdered.  So  he  never  got  a  chance  to 
turn  it  back  to  you." 

The  father  of  the  man  who  had  been  killed 
drew  a  long,  sobbing  breath  of  relief.  His 
clenched  fists  slowly  opened. 

"Tony  saw  all  this,  did  he?" 

"Not  all  of  it.  Day  was  comin'  on,  an'  he 
could  n't  follow  Rutherford  right  away.  Before 
he  got  goin'  the  three  men  saddled.  They  trailed 
along  after  yore  son,  an'  Tony  a  mile  or  so  be- 
hind 'em.  After  awhile  he  heard  a  shot.  He  took 
his  time  investigatin',  because  he  did  n't  want  to 
stop  any  bullets  himself.  At  the  foot  of  Battle 
Butte  he  found  Rutherford.  He  had  been  shot 
from  behind  an'  flung  over  the  bluff." 

The  face  of  the  cattleman  twitched.  "If  I  can 
lay  my  hands  on  the  man  or  men  that  did  it  — " 

"Mebbe  you  can,  if  you'll  give  me  time.  I 
checked  up  Tony's  story,  an'  everywhere  there 
was  evidence  to  back  it.  He  had  no  rule  with 
him,  but  I  picked  up  a  shell  back  of  some  rocks  a 


106  Oh,  You  Tex! 

hundred  yards  from  where  yore  son  must  have 
been  standin'  when  he  was  shot.  The  shell  came 
from  a  '73. 1  back-tracked  to  the  night-camp,  an* 
it  was  just  like  Tony  had  said.  Four  men  had 
been  there.  One  left  before  the  others.  You  could 
see  the  signs  where  they  had  trailed  him.  Once  or 
twice  they  missed  his  tracks  an'  found  'em  again. 
Same  way  with  the  single  man  followin'  them. 
He  had  taken  short-cuts  too.  Sometimes  he 
blotted  out  the  hoof  prints  of  the  three  in  front,  so 
I  know  he  was  not  ahead  of  'em." 

"You  think  the  Dinsmores  did  this,  Jack?" 
"I  want  more  evidence  before  I  say  so  pub* 
licly.  But  Tony  did  n't.  Here's  another  point  in 
his  favor.  If  Tony  shot  him  on  the  bluff  an'  flung 
the  body  over,  why  did  he  have  to  go  down  be- 
low an'  look  at  it?  No  need  a-tall  of  that.  Nc; 
Tony  went  down  to  make  sure  who  it  was  that 
had  been  killed.  Soon  as  he  knew  that  he  guessed 
he  would  be  accused  of  it,  an'  he  lit  out  for  No 
Man's  Land.  I  found  him  there  three  weeks 
later." 

The  cattleman  apologized  after  a  fashion  for 
some  hard  things  he  had  said  and  thought  about 
his  former  employee.  "I  don't  spend  any  of  my 
time  likin'  yore  style,  Roberts.  You're  too  high- 
heeled  for  me.  But  I'll  say  this  for  you:  Ellison 
picked  a  good  man  when  he  got  you.  You're  a 
straight-up  rider,  an'  you'll  do  to  take  along. 
What's  yore  programme?" 


Oh,  You  Tex!  107 

He  told  it.  The  cattleman  looked  at  him  with 
increased  respect.  He  gave  a  short,  barking 
laugh. 

"If  it  was  anybody  else  I'd  say  it  was  crazy, 
but  you're  such  a  doggoned  hellion  of  a  go-getter 
mebbe  you  can  put  it  over." 

"Looks  to  me  like  a  good  bet,"  said  Roberts 
mildly. 

"Well,  I  an'  my  friends  will  be  right  there  if 
we're  needed.  I'll  see  you  through.  Can't  afford 
to  have  my  best  witness  strung  up  to  a  wagon- 
tongue  yet  awhile." 

They  talked  over  the  details;  then  the  Ranger 
started  for  the  jail,  and  the  cattleman  breezed 
around  to  give  a  little  tip  to  some  reliable  friends. 
Wadley  was  quite  of  a  mind  with  Roberts.  There 
was  going  to  be  no  lynching  at  Tascosa  if  he 
could  help  it. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

JACK  SERVES  NOTICE 

JACK  ROBERTS  liked  to  get  his  information  first 
hand.  On  his  way  to  the  jail  he  deflected,  passed 
up  the  wide,  dusty  main  street,  and  stopped  at  a 
log  "hogan"  made  of  bois  (Tare  timber  and  cedar 
from  the  brakes.  Across  the  front  of  it  was 
printed  roughly  a  sign : 

THE  SILVER  DOLLAB 

The  Ranger  took  a  little  hitch  at  his  guns  to 
make  sure  they  would  slide  easily  from  the  hol- 
sters in  case  of  need^  then  strolled  into  the  sa- 
loon, a  picture  of  negligent  indifference. 

A  tall  man,  lank  as  a  shad,  was  master  of  cere- 
monies. Steve  Gurley  was  in  high  feather.  He 
was  treating  the  crowd  and  was  availing  himself 
of  his  privilege  as  host  to  do  the  bulk  of  the  talk- 
ing. His  theme  was  the  righteousness  of  mob  law, 
with  particular  application  to  the  case  of  Tony 
Alviro.  He  talked  loudly,  as  befits  one  who  is  a 
leader  of  public  opinion. 

Some  wandering  of  attention  in  his  audience 
brought  him  to  a  pause.  He  turned,  to  see  the 
Ranger  leaning  indolently  against  the  door- 
jamb.  Jack  was  smiling  in  the  manner  of  one 
quietly  amused. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  109 

"Who  invited  you  here?"  demanded  Gurley, 
taken  aback,  but  unwilling  to  show  it. 

"Me,  I  just  dropped  in  to  hear  yore  big  talk. 
Reminds  me  of  old  Geronimo.  Like  you,  he  gets 
all  filled  up  with  words  about  every  so  often  and 
has  to  steam  off.  Go  ahead,  Gurley.  Don't  let  me 
interrupt  you.  Make  heap  oration." 

But  Gurley's  fluency  was  gone.  His  cross-eyed 
glance  slid  round  the  room  to  take  stock  of  his 
backers.  Was  this  fellow  Roberts  alone,  or  had 
he  a  dozen  Rangers  in  town  with  him?  He  de- 
cided to  bluff,  though  with  no  very  great  confi- 
dence. For  into  the  picture  had  walked  a  man,  a 
personality,  dynamic  and  forceful.  The  outlaw 
had  seen  him  in  action  once,  and  he  had  been 
on  that  occasion  as  easy  to  handle  as  a  cageful 
of  panthers. 

"Come  to  see  the  hangin',  have  you,  Mr. 
Ranger?" 

"Is  there  goin'  to  be  a  hangin'?" 

"You  betcha  —  to-night!  Git  around  early, 
an'  you  can  have  a  front  seat."  Gurley  added  a 
word  of  explanation.  "No  greaser  can  git  biggity 
an'  shoot  up  our  friends  without  hangin'  from 
the  end  of  a  wagon-tongue  pronto" 

"We'll  see  what  a  judge  an'  jury  say  about 
it,"  suggested  the  Ranger  mildly. 

"That  so?  No  br indie-thatched  guy  in  buck- 
skin can  interfere  without  sleepin'  in  smoke. 
Understand?"  The  long,  sallow  man  nervously 


110  Oh,  You  Tex! 

stroked  his  hair,  which  was  flattened  down  on 
his  forehead  in  a  semicircle  in  the  absurd  fash- 
ion of  the  day. 

"Don't  pull  on  yore  picket-pin,  Gurley,"  ob- 
served Roberts.  "What  I  say  goes.  There's  goin' 
to  be  no  hangin'  till  the  courts  say  so." 

A  man  had  come  into  the  saloon  by  the  back 
door.  He  was  a  heavy-set,  slouchy  man  in  jeans, 
broad-shouldered  and  bowlegged.  He  laughed 
grimly.  "I  don't  reckon  you  can  put  that  over  on 
folks  of  the  short-grass  country,  young  fellow,  me 
lad.  We  grow  man-size,  an'  I  don't  expect  we  '11 
ask  yore  say-so  when  we're  ready  for  business." 

Pete  Dinsmore  had  the  advantage  of  his  col- 
league. He  knew  that  Roberts  was  the  only 
Ranger  in  town.  Also  he  was  of  tougher  stuff. 
The  leader  of  the  Dinsmore  gang  would  go 
through. 

Into  the  gray-blue  eye  of  the  young  man  came 
a  look  that  chilled.  "Dinsmore,  I'm  not  here  to 
get  into  a  rookus  with  you.  But  I  '11  serve  notice 
on  you  right  now  to  keep  yore  mind  off  Alviro. 
He's  in  the  hands  of  the  Texas  Rangers.  You 
know  what  that  means." 

Dinsmore  met  the  warning  with  a  sneer.  "I 
was  hittin'  my  heels  on  this  range  when  you  was 
knee-high  to  a  duck,  kid.  Don't  make  a  mistake. 
Folks  don't  make  'em  with  me  twice."  He  thrust 
the  head  on  his  bull  neck  forward  and  dropped  a 
hand  to  the  gun  by  his  side. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  ill 

The  Ranger  shook  his  head.  "Not  just  now, 
Pete.  You're  a  bad  kombre;  I  know  that.  Some 
day  we're  liable  to  tangle.  But  it  will  be  in  the 
way  of  business.  While  I  'm  workin'  for  the  State 
I've  got  no  private  feuds." 

Jack  turned  and  walked  out  of  the  place  as 
casually  as  he  had  entered.  He  knew  now  that 
Snark  was  right.  Tascosa  meant  to  hang  the 
Mexican  within  a  few  hours. 

Evidently  Tony  had  heard  the  news.  He 
looked  up  with  quick  apprehension  when  Snark 
opened  the  door  of  his  cell  to  admit  the  Ranger. 

"You  promise'  me  fair  trial,  senor.  Yet  to-day 
they  mean  to  hang  me.  Not  so?"  he  cried.  The 
young  Mexican  was  sweating  drops  of  fear. 

"That's  why  I'm  here,  Tony,"  answered  Jack 
cheerfully.  "The  hangin'  programme  won't  go 
through  if  you  do  exactly  as  I  say.  I  '11  stand  by 
you.  They'll  not  get  you  unless  they  get  me.  Is 
that  fair?" 

Confidence  is  born  of  confidence.  Alviro  felt 
himself  buttressed  by  the  quiet  strength  of  this 
vigorous  youth.  Broader  shoulders  than  his  had 
assumed  the  responsibility. 

"What  is  it  that  I  am  to  do?"  he  asked,  his 
liquid  eyes  filled  with  the  dumb  worship  of  a  dog. 

"You're  to  walk  right  beside  me.  No  matter 
how  the  crowd  presses  —  no  matter  what  it  does 
—  stick  right  there.  If  you  try  to  run,  you  're 
gone.  I  can't  save  you.  Understand?" 


Oh,  You  Tex! 

"§t,  senor." 

Roberts  looked  at  his  watch.  "'Most  time  for 
the  fireworks  to  begin.  You'll  wait  here  till  I 
come  back,  Tony.  I  'm  goin'  to  give  a  little  exhi- 
bition first.  Be  with  you  pronto." 

Little  beads  of  sweat  gathered  again  on  the 
forehead  of  the  prisoner.  The  palms  of  his  hands 
were  hot  and  moist.  He  glanced  nervously  out  of 
the  window.  Ten  minutes  before  there  had  been 
a  few  lookouts  hi  sight;  now  there  were  a  hun- 
dred men  or  more.  The  mob  was  beginning  to 
gather  for  the  storming  of  the  sod-house.  Soon 
the  affairs  of  Tony  Alviro  would  reach  a  crisis. 

"I  —  I  '11  nev'  get  out  alive,"  said  the  Mexican 
in  a  dry  whisper. 

The  Ranger  grinned  at  him.  "Don't  worry.  If 
the  luck  breaks  right  we'll  camp  to-night  under 
the  stars.  If  it  does  n't  they'll  bury  us  both, 
Tony." 

In  that  smile  was  life  for  Alviro.  It  expressed  a 
soul  unperturbed,  ready  for  anything  that  might 
come  up.  With  this  man  beside  him  Tony  felt 
courage  flowing  back  into  his  heart. 


CHAPTER  XV 

A  CLOSE  SHAVE 

THE  Ranger  opened  the  door  of  the  "soddy," 
stepped  through,  and  closed  it  behind  him.  Jeers, 
threats,  bits  of  advice  greeted  him  from  those  in 
front  of  the  jail. 

"Better  p'int  for  the  hills,  Mr.  Ranger."  . . . "  A 
whole  passel  of  sheriffs  can't  save  the  greaser." 

"Don't  you-all  try  an'  stop  us  if  you  know 

what's  good  for  you."  . . .  "Skedaddle  while  yore 
skin's  whole." ...  "It 's  the  Mexican,  anyhow;  it's 
him  an'  you  too,  if  you  show  fight." 

The  lean-flanked  young  Ranger  looked  them 
over  coolly.  Men  were  coming  in  driblets  from  the 
main  street.  Already  perhaps  there  were  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  men  and  boys  in  sight.  They  were 
the  advance  guard  of  the  gathering  mob. 

Never  in  his  gusty  lifetime  had  Jack  Roberts 
been  more  maste?  of  himself.  He  had  that  rare 
temperament  which  warms  to  danger.  He  stood 
there  bareheaded,  his  crisp,  curly  bronze  hair  re- 
flecting the  glow  of  the  setting  sun,  one  hand 
thrust  carelessly  into  his  trousers  pocket. 

"  Give  up  yore  prisoner,  an'  we  won't  hurt  you. 
We  got  nothin'  against  you,"  a  voice  cried. 

Jack  did  not  answer.  His  left  hand  came  out 
of  the  pocket  bringing  with  it  half  a  dozen  silver 


114  Oh,  You  Tex! 

dollars.  Simultaneously  the  nose  of  his  revolver 
flashed  into  sight.  A  dollar  went  up  into  the  air. 
The  revolver  cracked.  The  coin,  struck  by  the 
bullet  in  its  descent,  was  flung  aside  at  an  angle. 
Dollar  after  dollar  went  up  and  was  hurled  from 
its  course  as  the  weapon  barked.  Out  of  six  shots 
the  Ranger  missed  only  one. 

It  was  marvelous  marksmanship,  but  it  did 
not  in  the  least  cow  those  who  saw  the  exhibition. 
They  were  frontiersmen  themselves,  many  of 
them  crack  shots,  and  they  knew  that  one  man 
could  do  nothing  against  several  hundred.  Their 
taunts  followed  Roberts  as  he  stepped  back  into 
the  sod-house. 

Jack  reloaded  his  revolver  and  joined  the  Mex- 
ican. "All  ready,  Tony.  We're  off  soon  as  I've 
put  the  cuffs  on  you,"  he  said  briskly. 

"Don'  handcuff  me,  senor.  Give  me  a  gun  an* 
a  chance  for  my  life,"  begged  Alviro.  He  was 
trembling  like  an  aspen  leaf  in  a  summer  breeze. 

The  Ranger  shook  his  head.  "No,  Tony.  If  you 
weren't  wearin'  cuffs  they'd  think  I  meant  to 
turn  you  loose.  You  would  n't  have  a  chance.  I  'm 
the  law,  an'  you  're  my  prisoner.  That 's  goin'  to 
help  pull  us  through.  Brace  up,  boy.  I  've  got  an 
ace  up  my  sleeve  you  don't  know  about." 

A  minute  later  a  great  yell  of  triumph  rose  in 
the  air.  The  door  of  the  sod-house  had  opened, 
and  the  Ranger  and  his  prisoner  stood  in  front  of 
it.  The  mob  pushed  closer,  uncertain  as  to  what 


Oh,  You  Tex!  115 

its  next  move  would  be.  Had  Roberts  brought 
out  the  Mexican  with  the  intention  of  making 
a  merely  formal  resistance? 

Pete  Dinsmore,  just  arrived  on  the  scene  at 
the  head  of  a  group  from  the  saloons,  shouldered 
his  way  to  the  front. 

"We'll  take  care  of  yore  prisoner  now,  Mr. 
Ranger.  Much  obliged  for  savin'  us  the  trouble 
of  tearin'  down  the  soddy,"  he  called  jubilantly. 

"You  got  more  sense  an'  less  grit  than  I  fig- 
ured you  had,"  jeered  Gurley.  "Now  light  a 
shuck  back  to  Mobeetie  an'  write  a  report  on  it.'* 

Roberts  waited,  silent  and  motionless,  for  the 
tumult  to  die.  Only  his  eyes  and  his  brain  were 
active.  Homer  Dinsmore  was  in  the  crowd,  well 
to  the  front.  So  were  Jumbo  Wilkins,  Clint  Wad- 
ley,  and  half  a  dozen  other  line-riders  and  cow- 
men, all  grouped  together  to  the  left.  Fifty  yards 
back  of  them  a  group  of  saddled  horses  waited. 

The  shouting  spent  itself.  The  motionless  fig- 
ure beside  the  pallid  Mexican  excited  curiosity. 
Did  he  mean  to  give  up  his  prisoner  without  a 
fight?  That  was  not  the  usual  habit  of  the  Texas 
Ranger. 

With  his  left  hand  Jack  drew  from  a  coat- 
pocket  some  dark  sticks  a  few  inches  long.  A  sec- 
ond time  his  six-shooter  leaped  from  its  scabbard. 

"Look  out  for  his  cutter! ?J1  yelled  Gurley. 

1  In  the  early  days  in  Texas  a  revolver  was  sometimes  called 
ft  "cutter." 


116  Oh,  You  Tex! 

The  voice  of  Wadley  boomed  out  harsh  and 
strong,  so  that  every  man  present  heard  what  he 
said.  "Gad,  he 's  got  dynamite!" 

The  revolvers  of  the  two  Dinsraores  were  al- 
ready out.  They  had  moved  forward  a  step  or 
two,  crouching  warily,  eyes  narrowed  and  steady. 
If  this  brash  young  Ranger  wanted  a  fight  he 
could  have  it  on  the  jump.  But  at  Wadley 's  shout 
they  stopped  abruptly.  The  owner  of  the  A  T  O 
was  right.  The  fool  officer  had  several  sticks  of 
dynamite  in  his  hand  tied  together  loosely  by  a 
string. 

The  crowd  had  been  edging  forward.  There 
was  no  break  in  it  now,  but  one  could  see  a  kind 
of  uneasy  ripple,  almost  as  though  it  held  its 
mob  breath  tensely  and  waited  to  see  what  was 
to  come. 

"He 's  got  no  fuse!"  screamed  Gurley. 

"  Here 's  my  fuse,"  retorted  the  Ranger.  He  held 
up  his  revolver  so  that  all  could  see.  "I'm  goin* 
to  fling  this  dynamite  at  the  first  man  who  tries 
to  stop  me  an'  hit  it  while  it 's  in  the  air  close 
to  his  head.  Come  on,  Tony.  We're  on  our  way." 

He  moved  slowly  forward.  The  Dinsmores 
stood  fast,  but  the  crowd  sagged.  As  the  Ranger 
got  closer  there  was  a  sudden  break.  Men  began 
to  scramble  for  safety. 

"Look  out,  Dinsmore,"  an  excited  voice  cried. 
It  belonged  to  Jumbo  Wilkins.  "He'll  blow  you 
to  hell  an'  back." 


Oh,  You  Tex!  117 

Both  of  the  Dinsmores  had  a  reputation  for 
gameness  in  a  country  where  the  ordinary  citizen 
was  of  proved  courage.  With  revolvers  or  rifles 
they  would  have  fought  against  odds,  had  done 
it  more  than  once.  But  dynamite  was  a  weapon 
to  which  they  were  not  used.  It  carried  with  it 
the  terror  of  an  instant  death  which  would  leave 
them  no  chance  to  strike  back.  Very  slowly  at 
first,  a  step  at  a  time,  they  gave  ground. 

Roberts,  as  he  moved  with  his  prisoner,  edged 
toward  Wadley  and  his  group.  He  knew  he  had 
won,  that  the  big  cattleman  and  his  friends  would 
close  behind  him  in  apparent  slow  pursuit,  so 
adroitly  as  to  form  a  shield  between  him  and  the 
mob  and  thus  prevent  a  rifle-shot  from  cutting 
him  down.  The  horses  were  in  sight  scarce  half  a 
hundred  yards  away. 

And  in  the  moment  of  victory  he  shaved  dis- 
aster. From  the  right  there  came  the  pad  of  light, 
running  feet  and  the  rustle  of  skirts. 

"Goddlemighty,  it's  'Mona!"  cried  Wadley, 
aghast. 

It  was.  Ramona  had  known  that  something 
was  in  the  air  when  the  Ranger  and  her  father 
held  their  conference  in  front  of  the  house.  Her 
aunt  had  commented  on  the  fact  that  Clint  had 
taken  from  the  wall  a  sawed-off  shotgun  he  some- 
times carried  by  his  saddle.  The  girl  had  waited, 
desperately  anxious,  until  she  could  stand  sus- 
pense no  longer /Bareheaded,  she  had  slipped  out 


118  Oh,  You  Tex! 

of  the  house  and  hurried  toward  the  jail  in  time 
to  see  the  Ranger  facing  alone  an  angry  mob. 
Without  thought  of  danger  to  herself  she  had  run 
forward  to  join  him. 

Homer  Dinsmore  gave  a  whoop  of  triumph 
and  rushed  forward.  The  Ranger  could  not  play 
with  dynamite  when  the  life  of  Wadley 's  daughter 
was  at  stake.  His  brother,  Gurley,  a  dozen  others, 
came  close  at  his  heels,  just  behind  Ramona. 

The  Ranger  dropped  the  black  sticks  into  his 
pocket  and  backed  away,  screening  his  prisoner 
as  he  did  so.  The  ex-Confederate  who  had  come 
up  on  the  stage  was  standing  beside  Wadley.  He 
let  out  the  old  yell  of  his  war  days  and  plunged 
forward. 

The  Dinsmores  bumped  into  the  surprise  of 
their  lives.  Somehow  the  man  upon  whom  they 
had  almost  laid  clutches  was  out  of  reach.  Be- 
tween him  and  them  was  a  line  of  tough  old- 
timers  with  drawn  guns. 

The  owner  of  the  A  T  O  handed  his  sawed-off 
shotgun  to  Jumbo  Wilkins,  caught  Ramona  round 
the  shoulders  with  one  arm,  and  ran  her  hurriedly 
out  of  the  danger-zone. 

Joe  Johnston's  old  trooper  pushed  the  end  of 
his  rifle  urgently  against  Homer  Dinsmore's  ribs. 
"Doggone  it,  don't  be  so  rampageous!  Keep  back 
ther !  This  gun 's  liable  to  go  off." 

"What's  ailin'  you?"  snarled  Gurley.  "Ain't 
you  goin'  to  help  us  string  up  the  Mexican?  " 


Oh,  You  Tex!  ,  119 

**No,  Steve.  Our  intentions  is  otherwise,"  re- 
plied Jumbo  with  a  grin.  "An'  don't  any  of  you- 
all  come  closeter.  This  sawed-off  shotgun  of 
Clint's  is  loaded  with  buckshot,  an'  she  spatters 
all  over  the  State  of  Texas." 

The  little  posse  round  the  prisoner  backed 
steadily  to  the  left.  Not  till  they  were  almost  at 
the  horses  did  Dinsmore's  mob  guess  the  inten- 
tions of  the  Ranger. 

Pete  gave  a  howl  of  rage  and  let  fly  a  bullet  at 
Alviro.  Before  the  sound  of  the  shot  had  died 
away,  the  outlaw  dropped  his  revolver  with  an 
oath.  The  accurate  answering  fire  of  Roberts  had 
broken  his  wrist. 

"  No  use,  Pete,"  growled  his  brother.  "They  've 
got  the  deadwood  on  us  to-day.  But  I  reckon 
there  are  other  days  comin'." 

Homer  Dinsmore  was  right.  The  mob  had 
melted  away  like  a  small  snowbank  in  a  hot  sun. 
It  was  one  thing  to  help  lynch  a  defenseless  Mexi- 
can; it  was  quite  another  to  face  nine  or  ten  de- 
termined men  backing  the  law.  Scarce  a  score  of 
the  vigilantes  remained,  and  most  of  them  were 
looking  for  a  chance  to  save  their  faces  "without 
starting  anything,"  as  Jumbo  put  it  later. 

The  lynching-party  stood  sullenly  at  a  distance 
and  watched  the  Ranger,  his  prisoner,  and  three 
other  men  mount  the  horses.  The  rest  of  the  posse 
covered  the  retreat  of  the  horsemen. 

Just  before  the  riders  left,  Jumbo  asked  a  ques- 


120  Oh,  You  Tex! 

tion  that  had  been  disturbing  him.  "Say,  Tex, 
honest  Injun,  would  you  'a'  fired  off  that  dyna- 
mite if  it  had  come  to  a  showdown?  " 

Roberts  laughed.  He  drew  from  his  pocket  the 
sticks,  tossed  them  into  the  air,  and  took  a  quick 
shot  with  his  revolver. 

For  a  moment  not  a  soul  in  the  posse  nor  one 
of  Dinsmore's  watching  vigilantes  drew  a  breath. 
Not  one  had  time  to  move  in  self-def  ense. 

The  bullet  hit  its  mark.  All  present  saw  the 
little  spasmodic  jerk  of  the  bundle  in  the  air.  But 
there  was  no  explosion.  The  dynamite  fell  harm- 
lessly to  the  ground. 

The  old  Confederate  stepped  forward  and 
picked  up  the  bundle.  He  examined  it  curiously, 
then  let  out  a  whoop  of  joyous  mirth. 

"Nothin'  but  painted  sticks!  Son,  you're  sure 
a  jim-dandy!  Take  off  yore  hats,  boys,  to  the 
man  that  ran  a  bluff  on  the  Dinsmore  outfit  an* 
made  a  pair  of  deuces  stick  against  a  royal  flush." 

He  tossed  the  bits  of  wood  across  to  Pete  Dins- 
more,  who  caught  the  bundle  and  looked  down 
at  it  with  a  sinister  face  of  evil.  This  boy  had  out- 
maneuvered,  outgamed,  and  outshot  him.  Dins- 
more  was  a  terror  in  the  land,  a  bad-man  known 
and  feared  widely.  Mothers,  when  they  wanted 
to  frighten  their  children,  warned  them  to  be- 
have, or  the  Dinsmore  gang  would  get  them. 
Law  officers  let  these  outlaws  alone  on  one  pre- 
text or  another.  But  lately  a  company  of  the  Texas 


Oh,  You  Tex! 

Rangers  had  moved  up  into  the  Panhandle.  This 
young  cub  had  not  only  thrown  down  the  gaunt- 
let to  him;  he  had  wounded  him,  thwarted  him, 
laughed  at  him,  and  made  a  fool  of  him.  The  pres- 
tige he  had  built  up  so  carefully  was  shaken. 

The  black  eyes  of  the  outlaw  blazed  in  their 
deep  sockets.  "By  God,  young  fellow,  it's  you  or 
me  next  time  we  meet.  I'll  learn  you  that  no 
scrub  Ranger  can  cross  Pete  Dinsmore  an'  get 
away  with  it.  This  ain't  the  first  time  you've  run 
on  the  rope  with  me.  I  've  had  more  'n  plenty  of 
you." 

The  riders  were  moving  away,  but  Jack  Rob- 
erts turned  in  the  saddle,  one  hand  on  the  rump 
of  the  bronco. 

"It  won't  be  the  last  time  either,  Dinsmore. 
You  look  like  any  other  cheap  cow-thief  to  me. 
The  Rangers  are  going  to  bring  law  to  this  coun- 
try. Tell  yore  friends  they  'U  live  longer  if  they 
turn  honest  men." 

The  Ranger  put  spurs  to  his  horse  and  galloped 
after  his  posse. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

WADLEY  GOES  HOME  IN  A  BUCKBOARD 

CLINT  WADLEY  took  his  daughter  to  the  end  of 
the  street  where  his  sister  lived,  blowing  her  up 
like  a  Dutch  uncle  every  foot  of  the  way.  The 
thing  she  had  done  had  violated  his  sense  of  the 
proprieties  and  he  did  not  hesitate  to  tell  her 
so.  He  was  the  more  unrestrained  in  his  scold- 
ing because  for  a  few  moments  his  heart  had 
stood  still  at  the  danger  in  which  she  had  placed 
herself. 

"If  you  was  just  a  little  younger  I'd  sure 
enough  paddle  you.  Have  n't  you  been  brought 
up  a-tall?  Did  you  grow  up  like  Topsy,  without 
any  folks?  Don't  you  know  better  than  to  mix  up 
in  men's  affairs  an'  git  yoreself  talked  about?  " 
he  spluttered. 

Ramona  hung  her  head  and  accepted  his  re- 
proaches humbly.  It  was  easy  for  her  to  believe 
that  she  had  been  immodest  and  forward  in  her 
solicitude.  Probably  Mr.  Roberts  —  and  every- 
body else,  for  that  matter  —  thought  she  could 
not  be  a  nice  girl,  since  she  had  been  so  silly. 

"You  go  home  an'  stay  there,"  continued  Clint 
severely.  "Don't  you  poke  yore  head  outside  the 
door  till  I  come  back.  I  '11  not  have  you  traipsing 
around  this-a-way.  Hear  me,  honey?  " 


Oh,  You  Tex!  123 

"Yes,  Dad,"  she  murmured  through  the  tears 
that  were  beginning  to  come. 

"I  reckon,  when  it  comes  to  standin'  off  a 
crowd  o'  hoodlums,  I  don't  need  any  help  from 
a  half -grown  little  squab  like  you.  I  been  too  easy 
on  you.  That  ?s  what  ails  you." 

Ramona  had  not  a  word  to  say  for  herself.  She 
crept  into  the  house  and  up  to  her  room,  flung 
herself  on  the  bed  and  burst  into  a  passion  of 
weeping.  Why  had  she  made  such  an  exhibition 
of  herself?  She  was  ashamed  in  every  fiber  of  her 
being.  Not  only  had  she  disgraced  herself,  but 
also  her  father  and  her  aunt. 

Meanwhile  her  father  was  on  his  way  back 
downtown.  In  spite  of  his  years  the  cattleman 
was  hot-headed.  He  had  something  to  say  to  Pete 
Dinsmore.  If  it  led  to  trouble  Wadley  would  be 
more  than  content,  for  he  believed  now  that  the 
Dinsmore  gang  —  or  some  one  of  them  acting 
in  behalf  of  all  —  had  murdered  his  son,  and  he 
would  not  rest  easy  until  he  had  avenged  the 
boy. 

The  Dinsmores  were  not  at  the  Silver  Dollar 
nor  at  the  Bird  Cage.  A  lounger  at  the  bar  of  the 
latter  told  the  owner  of  the  A  T  O  that  they  had 
gone  to  the  corral  for  their  horses.  He  had  heard 
them  say  they  were  going  to  leave  town. 

The  cattleman  followed  them  to  the  corral 
they  frequented.  Pete  Dinsmore  was  saddling 
his  horse  in  front  of  the  stable.  The  others  were 


124  Oh,  You  Tex! 

not  in  sight,  but  a  stable  boy  in  ragged  jeans  was 
working  over  some  harness  near  the  door. 

Dinsmore  sulkily  watched  Wadley  approach. 
He  was  in  a  sour  and  sullen  rage.  One  of  the  privi- 
leges of  a  "bad-man"  is  to  see  others  step  softly 
and  speak  humbly  in  his  presence.  But  to-day  a 
young  fellow  scarcely  out  of  his  teens  had  made 
him  look  like  a  fool.  Until  he  had  killed  Roberts, 
the  chief  of  the  outlaws  would  never  be  satisfied, 
nor  would  his  prestige  be  what  it  had  been.  It  had 
been  the  interference  of  Wadley  and  his  crowd 
that  had  saved  the  Ranger  from  him,  and  he  was 
ready  to  vent  his  anger  on  the  cattleman  if  he 
found  a  good  chance. 

The  outlaw  knew  well  enough  that  he  could 
not  afford  to  quarrel  with  the  owner  of  the  A  T  O. 
There  was  nothing  to  gain  by  it  and  everything 
to  lose,  for  even  if  the  cattleman  should  be  killed 
in  a  fair  fight,  the  Rangers  would  eventually 
either  shoot  the  Dinsmores  or  run  them  out  of  the 
country.  But  Pete  was  beyond  reason  just  now. 
He  was  like  a  man  with  a  toothache  who  grinds 
on  his  sore  molar  in  the  intensity  of  his  pain. 

"I've  come  to  tell  you  somethin',  Dinsmore," 
said  Wadley  harshly. 

"Come  to  apologize  for  throwin'  me  down,  I 
reckon.  You  need  n't.  I'm  through  with  you." 

"  1 9m  not  through  with  you.  What  I  want  to  say 
is  that  you're  a  dog.  No,  you're  worse  than  any 
hound  I  ever  knew;  you're  a  yellow  wolf." 


Oh,  You  Tex!  125 

"What 's  that?  "  cried  the  bad-man,  astounded. 
His  uninjured  hand  crept  to  a  revolver-butt. 

"I  believe  in  my  soul  that  you  murdered  my 
boy." 

"You're  crazy,  man — locoed  sure  enough. 
The  Mexican — " 

"Is  a  witness  against  you.  When  you  heard 
that  he  had  followed  Ford  that  night,  you  got 
to  worryin'.  You  did  n't  know  how  much  he  had 
seen.  So  you  decided  to  play  safe  an'  lynch  him, 
you  hellhound." 

"Where  did  you  dream  that  stuff,  Wadley?" 
demanded  Dinsmore,  eyes  narrowed  wrathfully. 

"I  did  n't  dream  it,  any  more  than  I  dreamed 
that  you  followed  Ford  from  the  cap-rock  where 
you  hole  up,  an'  shot  him  from  behind  at  Battle 
Butte." 

"That's  war  talk,  Wadley.  I've  just  got  one 
word  to  say  to  it.  You  're  a  liar.  Come  a-shootin% 
soon  as  you're  ready." 

"That 'snow." 

The  cattleman  reached  for  his  forty-five,  but 
before  he  could  draw,  a  shot  rang  out  from  the 
corral.  Wadley  staggered  forward  a  step  or  two 
and  collapsed. 

Pete  did  not  relax  his  wariness.  He  knew  that 
one  of  the  gang  had  shot  Wadley,  but  he  did  not 
yet  know  how  badly  the  man  was  hurt.  From  his 
place  behind  the  horse  he  took  a  couple  of  left- 
handed  shots  across  the  saddle  at  the  helpless 


126  Oh,  You  Tex! 

man.  The  cattleman  raised  himself  on  an  elbow, 
but  fell  back  with  a  grunt. 

The  position  of  Dinsmore  was  an  awkward  one 
to  fire  from.  Without  lifting  his  gaze  from  the 
victim,  he  edged  slowly  round  the  bronco. 

There  was  a  shout  of  terror,  a  sudden  rush  of 
hurried  feet.  The  stableboy  had  flung  himself 
down  on  Wadley  in  such  a  way  as  to  protect  the 
prostrate  body  with  his  own. 

"Git  away  from  there!"  ordered  the  outlaw, 
his  face  distorted  with  the  lust  for  blood  that 
comes  to  the  man-killer. 

"No.  You've  done  enough  harm.  Let  him 
alone!"  cried  the  boy  wildly. 

The  young  fellow  was  gaunt  and  ragged.  A  thin 
beard  straggled  over  the  boyish  face.  The  lips 
were  bloodless,  and  the  eyes  filled  with  fear.  But 
he  made  no  move  to  scramble  for  safety.  It  was 
plain  that  in  spite  of  his  paralyzing  horror  he 
meant  to  stick  where  he  was. 

Dinsmore's  lip  curled  cruelly.  He  hesitated. 
This  boy  was  the  only  witness  against  him.  Why 
not  make  a  clean  job  of  it  and  wipe  him  out  too? 
He  fired  —  and  missed;  Pete  was  not  an  expert 
left-hand  shot. 

"Look  out,  Pete.  Men  comin'  down  the  road," 
called  the  other  Dinsmore  from  the  gate  of  the 
corral. 

Pete  looked  and  saw  two  riders  approaching. 
It  was  too  late  now  to  make  sure  of  Wadley  or 


Oh,  You  Tex!  127 

to  silence  the  wrangler.  He  shoved  his  revolver 
back  into  its  place  and  swung  to  the  saddle. 

"Was  it  you  shot  Wadley?"  he  asked  his 
brother. 

"Yep,  an  none  too  soon.  He  was  reachin'  for 
his  six-shooter." 

"The  fool  would  have  it.  Come,  let 's  burn  the 
wind  out  of  here  before  a  crowd  gathers." 

Gurley  and  a  fourth  man  joined  them.  The 
four  galloped  down  the  road  and  disappeared  in 
a  cloud  of  white  dust. 

A  moment  later  Jumbo  Wilkins  descended 
heavily  from  his  horse.  Quint  Sullivan,  another 
rider  for  the  A  T  O,  was  with  him. 

The  big  line-rider  knelt  beside  his  employer 
and  examined  the  wound.  "Hit  once  —  in  the 
side,"  he  pronounced. 

"Will  — will  he  live?"  asked  the  white-faced 
stableboy. 

"Don't  know.  But  he's  a  tough  nut,  Clint  is. 
He 's  liable  to  be  cussin'  out  the  boys  again  in  a 
month  or  two." 

Wadley  opened  his  eyes.  "You're  damn'  whis- 
tlin',  Jumbo.  Get  me  to  my  sister's." 

Quint,  a  black-haired  youth  of  twenty,  gave 
a  repressed  whoop.  "One  liT  bit  of  a  lead  pill 
can't  faze  the  boss.  They  took  four  or  five  cracks 
at  him  an'  did  n't  hit  but  once.  That 's  plumb 
lucky." 

"It  would  'a'  been  luckier  if  they  had  n't  hit 


128  Oh,  You  Tex! 

him  at  all,  Quint,"  answered  Jumbo  dryly.  "You 
fork  yore  hawss,  son,  an'  go  git  Doc  Bridgman. 
An'  you  —  whatever  they  call  you,  Mr.  Hawss- 
rustler  —  harness  a  team  to  that  buckboard." 

Jumbo,  with  the  expertness  of  an  old-timer 
who  had  faced  emergencies  of  this  kind  before, 
bound  up  the  wound  temporarily.  The  stable- 
rustler  hitched  a  team,  covered  the  bottom  of 
the  buckboard  with  hay,  and  helped  Wilkins  lift 
the  wounded  man  to  it. 

Clint  grinned  faintly  at  the  white-faced  boy 
beside  him.  A  flicker  of  recognition  lighted  his 
eyes.  "You  look  like  you'd  seen  a  ghost,  Ridley. 
Close  call  for  both  of  us,  eh?  Lucky  that  Ranger 
plugged  Dinsmore  in  the  shootin'  arm.  Pete's  no 
two-gun  man.  Can't  shoot  for  sour  apples  with 
his  left  hand.  Kicked  up  dust  all  around  us,  an' 
did  n't  score  once." 

"Quit  yore  talkin',  Clint,"  ordered  Jumbo. 

"All  right,  Doc."  The  cattleman  turned  to 
Ridley.  "Run  ahead,  boy,  an'  prepare  'Mona  so 's 
she  won't  be  scared  plumb  to  death.  Tell  her  it 's 
only  a  triflin'  flesh-wound.  Keep  her  busy  fixin' 
up  a  bed  for  me  —  an'  bandages.  Don't  let  her 
worry.  See?  " 

Ridley  had  come  to  town  only  two  days  before. 
Ever  since  the  robbery  he  had  kept  a  lone  camp 
on  Turkey  Creek.  There  was  plenty  of  game  for 
the  shooting,  and  in  that  vast  emptiness  of  space 
he  could  nurse  his  wounded  self-respect.  But  he 


Oh,  You  Tex!  H9 

had  run  out  of  flour  and  salt.  Because  Tascosa 
was  farther  from  the  A  T  O  ranch  than  Clarendon 
he  had  chosen  it  as  a  point  to  buy  supplies.  The 
owner  of  the  corral  had  offered  him  a  job,  and 
he  had  taken  it.  He  had  not  supposed  that  Ra- 
mona  was  within  a  hundred  miles  of  the  spot. 
The  last  thing  in  the  world  he  wanted  was  to 
meet  her,  but  there  was  no  help  for  it  now. 

Her  aunt  carried  to  Ramona  the  word  that  a 
man  was  waiting  outside  with  a  message  from 
her  father.  When  she  came  down  the  porch  steps, 
there  were  still  traces  of  tear-stains  on  her  cheeks. 
In  the  gathering  dusk  she  did  not  at  first  recog- 
nize the  man  at  the  gate.  She  moved  forward 
doubtfully,  a  slip  of  a  slender-limbed  girl,  full  of 
the  unstudied  charm  and  grace  of  youth. 

Halfway  down  the  path  she  stopped,  her  heart 
beating  a  little  faster.  Could  this  wan  and  ragged 
man  with  the  unkempt  beard  be  Art  Ridley,  al- 
ways so  careful  of  his  clothes  and  his  personal 
appearance?  She  was  a  child  of  impulse.  Her 
sympathy  went  out  to  him  with  a  rush,  and  she 
streamed  down  the  path  to  meet  him.  A  strong, 
warm  little  hand  pressed  his.  A  flash  of  soft  eyes 
irradiated  him.  On  her  lips  was  the  tender  smile 
that  told  him  she  was  still  his  friend. 

"  Where  in  the  world  have  you  been?  "  she  cried. 
"And  what  have  you  been  doing  to  yourself?" 

His  blood  glowed  at  the  sweetness  of  her  gen* 


130  Oh,  You  Tex! 

"I've  been  —  camping." 

With  the  shyness  and  the  boldness  of  a  child 
she  pushed  home  her  friendliness.  "Why  don't 
you  ever  come  to  see  a  fellow  any  more?  " 

He  did  not  answer  that,  but  plunged  at  his 
mission.  "Miss  Ramona,  I've  got  bad  news  for 
you.|Your  father  has  been  hurt  —  not  very  badly, 
I  think.  He  told  me  to  tell  you  that  the  wound 
was  only  a  slight  one." 

'Mona  went  white  to  the  lips.  "How?"  she 
whispered. 

"The  Dinsmores  shot  him.  The  men  are  bring- 
ing him  here." 

He  caught  her  in  his  arms  as  she  reeled.  For  a 
moment  her  little  head  lay  against  his  shoulder 
and  her  heart  beat  against  his. 

"A  trifling  flesh-wound,  your  father  called  it," 
went  on  Ridley.  "He  said  you  were  to  get  a  bed 
ready  for  him,  and  fix  bandages." 

She  steadied  herself  and  beat  back  the  wave 
of  weakness  that  had  swept  over  her. 

"Yes,"  she  said.  "I'll  tell  Aunt.  Have  they 
sent  for  the  doctor?  " 

"Quint  Sullivan  went." 

A  wagon  creaked.  'Mona  flew  into  the  house 
to  tell  her  aunt,  and  out  again  to  meet  her  father. 
Her  little  ankles  flashed  down  the  road.  Agile  as 
a  boy,  she  climbed  into  the  back  of  the  buck- 
board. 

"Oh,  Dad!"  she  cried  in  a  broken  little  voice* 


Oh,  You  Tex!  131 

and  her  arms  went  round  him  in  a  passion  of 
love. 

He  was  hurt  worse  than  he  was  willing  to  ad- 
mit to  her. 

"It's  all  right,  honey-bug.  Doc  Bridgman  will 
fix  me  up  fine.  Yore  old  dad  is  a  mighty  live  sin- 
ner yet." 

Ridley  helped  Jumbo  carry  the  cattleman  into 
the  house.  As  he  came  out,  the  doctor  passed  him 
going  in. 

Ridley  slipped  away  in  the  gathering  darkness 
and  disappeared. 


CHAPTER  XVH 

OLD-TIMERS 

As  soon  as  Captain  Ellison  heard  of  what  had 
happened  at  Tascosa,  he  went  over  on  the  stage 
from  Mobeetie  to  look  at  the  situation  himself. 
He  dropped  in  at  once  to  see  his  old  friends  the 
Wadleys.  Ramona  opened  the  door  to  him.. 

"Uncle  Jim!"  she  cried,  and  promptly  disap- 
peared in  his  arms  for  a  hug  and  a  kiss. 

The  Ranger  Captain  held  her  off  and  exam- 
ined the  lovely  flushed  face. 

"Dog  it,  you  get  prettier  every  day  you  live.  I 
wisht  I  was  thirty  years  younger.  I'd  make  some 
of  these  lads  get  a  move  on  'em." 

"I  wish  you  were,"  she  laughed.  "They  need 
some  competition  to  make  them  look  at  me.  None 
of  them  would  have  a  chance  then  —  even  if  they 
wanted  it." 

"I  believe  that.  I  got  to  believe  it  to  keep  my 
self-respect.  It 's  all  the  consolation  we  old-timers 
have  got.  How's  Clint?" 

"Better.  You  should  hear  him  swear  under  his 
breath  because  the  doctor  won't  let  him  smoke 
more  than  two  pipes  a  day,  and  because  we  won't 
let  him  eat  whatever  he  wants  to.  He  5s  worse 
than  a  sore  bear,"  said  Ramona  proudly. 

"Lead  me  to  him." 


Oh,  You  Tex!  133 

^  A  moment  later  the  Ranger  and  the  cattleman 
were  shaking  hands.  They  had  been  partners  in 
their  youth,  had  fought  side  by  side  in  the  Civil 
War,  and  had  shot  plains  Indians  together  at 
Adobe  Walls  a  few  years  since.  They  were  so  close 
to  each  other  that  they  could  quarrel  whenever 
they  chose,  which  they  frequently  did. 

"How,  old-timer!"  exclaimed  therRanger  Cap- 
tain. 

"Starved  to  death.  They  feed  me  nothin'  but 
slops- — soup  an'  gruel  an'  custard  an'  milk- 
toast.  Fine  for  a  full-grown  man,  ain't  it?  Jim, 
you  go  out  an'  get  me  a  big  steak  an'  cook  it  in 
boilin'  grease  on  a  camp-fire,  an'  I'll  give  you  a 
deed  to  the  A  TO." 

"To-morrow,  Clint.  The  Doc  says  — " 

"Mariana!  That's  what  they  all  say.  Is  this 
Mexico  or  God's  country?  What  I  want,  I  want 


now." 


'"You  always  did  —  an'  you  'most  always  got 
it  too,"  said  Ellison,  his  eyes  twinkling  reminis- 
cently. 

'Mona  shook  a  warning  finger  at  her  father* 
"Well,  he  won't  get  it  now.  He'll  behave,  too,  or 
he'll  not  get  his  pipe  to-night." 

The  sick  man  grinned.  "See  how  she  bullies  a 
poor  old  man,  Jim.  I'm  worse  than  that  Lear 
fellow  in  the  play  —  most  henpecked  father  you 
ever  did  see." 

"Will  she  let  you  talk?" 


134  Oh,  You  Tex! 

"He  may  talk  to  you,  Uncle  Jim." 

"What  did  I  tell  you?"  demanded  the  big 
cattleman  from  the  bed  with  the  mock  bitter- 
ness that  was  a  part  of  the  fun  they  both  enjoyed. 
"You  see,  I  got  to  get  her  permission.  I'm  a 
slave." 

"That 's  what  a  nurse  is  for,  Clint.  You  want 
to  be  glad  you  got  the  sweetest  one  m  Texas." 
The  Captain  patted  Ramona  affectionately  on 
the  shoulder  before  he  passed  to  the  business  of 
the  day.  "I  want  to  know  about  all  these  ruc- 
tions in  Tascosa.  Tell  me  the  whole  story." 

They  told  him.  He  listened  in  silence  till  they 
had  finished,  asked  a  question  or  two,  and  made 
one  comment. 

"That  boy  Roberts  of  mine  is  sure  some  go- 
getter." 

"He'll  do,"  conceded  the  cattleman.  "That 
lucky  shot  of  his  —  the  one  that  busted  Dins- 
more's  arm  —  certainly  saved  my  life  later." 

"Lucky  shot!"  exploded  Ellison.  "And  you 
just  through  tellin'  me  how  he  plugged  the  dollars 
in  the  air!  Doggone  it,  I  want  you  to  know  there 
was  no  darned  luck  about  it!  My  boys  are  the 
best  shots  in  Texas." 

"I  '11  take  any  one  of  'em  on  soon  as  I  'm  out  — 
any  time,  any  place,  any  mark,"  retorted  Wad- 
ley  promptly. 

"I'll  go  you.  Roberts  is  a  new  man  an*  has  n't 
had  much  experience.  I'll  match  him  with  you/' 


Oh,  You  Tex!  135 

"  New  man !  H'mp !  He 's  the  best  you ' ve  got, 
an'  you  know  it." 

"I  don't  know  whether  he  is,  but  he's  good 
enough  to  make  any  old-timer  like  you  look  like 
a  plugged  nickel." 

The  cattleman  snorted  again,  disdaining  an 
answer. 

"Dad  is  the  best  shot  in  Texas,"  pronounced 
Eamona  calmly,  rallying  to  her  father's  support. 
For  years  she  had  been  the  umpire  between  the 
two. 

The  Captain  threw  up  his  hands.  "I  give  up." 

"And  Mr.  Roberts  is  just  about  as  good." 

"That's  settled,  then,"  said  Ellison.  "But 
what  I  came  to  say  is  that  I  'm  goin'  to  round  up 
the  Dinsmore  bunch.  We  can't  convict  'em  of 
murder  on  the  evidence  we  have,  but  I'll  arrest 
'em  for  shootin'  you  an'  try  to  get  a  confession  out 
of  one  of  'em.  Does  that  look  reasonable,  Clint?" 

Wadley  considered  this. 

"It 's  worth  a  try-out.  The  Dinsmores  are 
game.  They  won't  squeal.  But  I've  a  sneakin' 
notion  Gurley  is  yellow.  He  might  come  through 
—  or  that  other  fellow  Overstreet  might.  I  don't 
know  him.  You  want  to  be  careful  how  you  try 
to  take  that  outfit,  though,  Jim.  They're  dan- 
gerous as  rattlesnakes." 

"That's  the  kind  of  outfit  my  boys  eat  up,M 
answered  the  chipper  little  officer  as  he  rose  to 
leave.  "Well,  so  long,  Clint.  Behave  proper,  an* 


136  Oh,  You  Tex! 

mebbe  this  young  tyrant  will  give  you  a  nice 
stick  o'  candy  for  a  good  boy." 

He  went  out  chuckling. 

The  cattleman  snorted.  "Beats  all  how  crazy 
Jim  is  about  those  Ranger  boys  of  his.  He  thinks 
the  sun  rises  an'  sets  by  them.  I  want  to  tell  you 
they've  got  to  sleep  on  the  trail  a  long  time  an* 
get  up  early  in  the  mo'nin'  to  catch  the  Dins- 
mores  in  bed.  That  bird  Pete  always  has  one  eye 
open.  What 's  more,  he  an5  his  gang  wear  their 
guns  low." 

"I  don't  think  Uncle  Jim  ought  to  send  boys 
like  Jack  Roberts  out  against  such  desperadoes. 
It 's  not  fair,"  Ramona  said  decisively. 

"Oh,  ain't  it?"  Her  father  promptly  switched 
to  the  other  side.  "You  give  me  a  bunch  of  boys 
like  young  Roberts,  an'  I'd  undertake  to  clean 
up  this  whole  country,  an'  Lincoln  County  too. 
He 's  a  dead  shot.  He 's  an  A-l  trailer.  He  can 
whip  his  weight  in  wildcats.  He's  got  savvy.  He 
uses  his  brains.  An'  he 's  game  from  the  toes  up. 
What  more  does  a  man  need?  " 

"I  did  n't  know  you  liked  him,"  his  daughter 
said  innocently. 

"Like  him?  Jumpin'  snakes,  no!  He's  too 
darned  fresh  to  suit  me.  What 's  likin'  him  got  to 
do  with  it?  I'm  just  tellin'  you  that  no  better 
officer  ever  stood  in  shoe-leather." 

"Oh,  I  see." 

Ramona  said  no  more.  She  asked  herself  BO 


Oh,  You  Tex!  137 

questions  as  to  the  reason,  but  she  knew  that  her 
father's  words  of  praise  were  sweet  to  hear.  They 
sent  a  warm  glow  of  pride  through  her  heart.  She 
wanted  to  think  well  of  this  red-haired  Ranger 
who  trod  the  earth  as  though  he  were  the  heir  of 
all  the  ages.  In  some  strange  way  Fate  had  linked 
his  life  with  hers  from  that  moment  when  he  had 
literally  flung  himself  in  her  path  to  fight  a  mad 
bull  for  her  life. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

A  SHOT  OUT  OP  THE  NIGHT 

RAMONA  sat  on  the  porch  in  the  gathering  dark- 
ness. She  had  been  reading  aloud  to  her  father, 
but  he  had  fallen  asleep  beside  her  in  his  big  arm- 
chair. During  these  convalescent  days  he  usually 
took  a  nap  after  dinner  and  after  supper.  He 
called  it  forty  winks,  but  to  an  unprejudiced  lis- 
tener the  voice  of  his  slumber  sounded  like  a  saw- 
mill in  action. 

The  gate  clicked,  and  a  man  walked  up  the 
path.  He  did  not  know  that  the  soft  eyes  of  the 
girl,  sitting  in  the  porch  shadows,  lit  with  pleas- 
ure at  sight  of  him.  Nothing  in  her  voice  or  in  her 
greeting  told  him  so. 

He  took  off  his  hat  and  stood  awkwardly  with 
one  booted  foot  on  the  lowest  step. 

"I  came  to  see  Mr.  Wadley,"  he  presently  ex- 
plained, unaccountably  short  of  small  talk. 

She  looked  at  her  father  and  laughed.  The  saw 
was  ripping  through  a  series  of  knots  in  alternate 
crescendo  and  diminuendo.  "Shall  I  wake  him? 
He  likes  to  sleep  after  eating.  I  think  it  does  him 
good." 

" Don't  you !  I  '11  come  some  other  time." 

"Could  n't  you  wait  a  little?  He  does  n't  usu- 
ally sleep  long."  The  girl  suggested  it  hospitably. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  190 

His  embarrassment  relieved  any  she  might  other- 
wise have  felt. 

"I  reckon  not." 

At  the  end  of  that  simple  sentence  he  stuck, 
and  because  of  it  Jack  Roberts  blushed.  It  was 
absurd.  There  was  no  sense  in  it,  he  told  himself. 
It  never  troubled  him  to  meet  men.  He  hadn't 
felt  any  shyness  when  there  had  been  a  chance 
to  function  in  action  for  her.  But  now  he  was  all 
feet  and  hands  before  this  slip  of  a  girl.  Was  it 
because  of  that  day  when  she  had  come  flying 
between  him  and  the  guns  of  Dinsmore's  lynching* 
party?  He  wanted  to  thank  her,  to  tell  her  how 
deeply  grateful  he  had  been  for  the  thought  that 
had  inspired  her  impulse.  Instead  of  which  he  was, 
he  did  not  forget  to  remind  himself  later,  as  ex- 
pressive as  a  bump  on  a  log. 

"Have  you  seen  anything  of  Mr.  Ridley?"  she 
asked. 

"No,  miss.  He  saved  yore  father's  life  from 
Pete  Dinsmore.  I  reckon  you  know  that." 

'Yes.  I  saw  him  for  a  moment.  Poor  boy!  I 
think  he  is  worrying  himself  sick.  If  you  meet 
him  will  you  tell  him  that  everything's  all  right. 
Dad  would  like  to  see  him." 

Their  voices  had  dropped  a  note  in  order  not 
to  waken  her  father.  For  the  same  reason  she  had 
come  down  the  steps  and  was  moving  with  him 
toward  the  gate. 

If  Jack  had  known  how  to  say  good-bye  they 


140  Oh,  You  Tex! 

would  probably  have  parted  at  the  fence,  but 
he  was  not  socially  adequate  for  the  business  of 
turning  his  back  gracefully  on  a  young  woman 
and  walking  away.  As  he  backed  from  her  he 
blurted  out  what  was  in  his  mind. 

"I  gotta  thank  you  for  —  for  buttin'  in  the 
other  day,  Miss  Ramona." 

She  laughed,  quite  at  her  ease  now.  Why  is  it 
that  the  most  tender-hearted  young  women  like 
to  see  big  two-fisted  men  afraid  of  them? 

"Oh,  you  thought  I  was  buttin'  in,"  she 
mocked,  tilting  a  gay  challenge  of  the  eyes  at 
him. 

"I  roped  the  wrong  word,  miss.  I  —  1 
thought  —  " 

What  he  thought  was  never  a  matter  of  record. 
She  had  followed  him  along  the  fence  to  com- 
plete his  discomfiture  and  to  enjoy  her  power 
to  turn  him  from  an  efficient  man  into  a  bashful 
hobbledehoy. 

"Father  gave  me  an  awful  scolding.  He  said  I 
did  n't  act  like  a  lady/' 

"He 's  'way  off,"  differed  Jack  hotly. 

She  shook  her  head.  "No.  You  see  I  could  n't 
explain  to  everybody  there  that  I  did  it  for  —  for 
Rutherford  —  because  I  didn't  want  anything 
so  dreadful  as  that  poor  Mexican's  death  on  his 
account.  Dad  said  some  of  the  men  might  think 
I  did  it  —  oh,  just  to  be  showing  off,"  she  finished 
untruthfully. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  141 

"Nobody  would  think  that  —  nobody  but  a 
plumb  idjit.  I  think  you  did  fine." 

Having  explained  satisfactorily  that  she  had 
not  interfered  for  his  sake,  there  was  really  no  oc- 
casion for  Ramona  to  linger.  But  Jack  had  found 
his  tongue  at  last  and  the  minutes  slipped  away. 

A  sound  in  the  brush  on  the  far  side  of  the 
road  brought  the  Ranger  to  attention.  It  was 
the  breaking  of  a  twig.  The  foot  that  crushed 
it  might  belong  to  a  cow  or  a  horse.  But  Roberts 
took  no  chances.  If  some  one  was  lying  in  wait, 
it  was  probably  to  get  him. 

"Turn  round  an'  walk  to  the  house,"  he  or- 
dered the  girl  crisply.  "Sing  'Swanee  River'  as 
you  go.  Quick!" 

There  was  a  note  in  his  voice  that  called  for 
obedience.  Ramona  turned,  a  flurry  of  fear  in 
her  heart.  She  did  not  know  what  there  was  to 
be  afraid  of,  but  she  was  quite  sure  her  compan- 
ion had  his  reason.  The  words  of  the  old  planta- 
tion song  trembled  from  her  lips  into  the  night. 

A  dozen  yards  behind  her  Jack  followed,  back- 
ing toward  the  house.  His  six-shooter  was  in  his 
hand,  close  to  his  side. 

He  flashed  one  look  backward.  The  parlor  was 
lit  up  and  Clint  Wadley  was  lying  on  a  lounge 
reading  a  paper.  He  was  a  tempting  mark  for 
anybody  with  a  grudge  against  him. 

Jack  took  the  last  twenty  yards  on  the  run.  He 
plunged  into  the  parlor  on  the  heels  of  Ramona. 


142  Oh,  You  Tex! 

Simultaneously  came  the  sound  of  a  shot  and 
of  breaking  glass.  Wadley  jumped  up,  in  time  to 
see  the  Ranger  blow  out  the  lamp.  Jack  caught 
Rainona  by  the  shoulders  and  thrust  her  down  to 
her  knees  in  a  corner  of  the  room. 

"What  in  blue  blazes  — ?"  Clint  began  to  de- 
mand angrily. 

"Keep  still,"  interrupted  Jack.  "Some  one's 
bushwhackin'  either  you  or  me." 

He  crept  to  the  window  and  drew  down  the 
blind.  A  small  hole  showed  where  the  bullet  had 
gone  through  the  window  and  left  behind  it  a 
star  of  shattered  glass. 

Ramona  began  to  whimper.  Her  father's  arm 
found  and  encircled  her.  "It's  all  right,  honey. 
He  can't  git  us  now." 

"I  'm  goin'  out  by  the  back  door.  Mebbe  I  can 
put  salt  on  this  bird's  tail,"  said  Jack.  "You  stay 
right  where  you  are,  Mr.  Wadley.  They  can't  hit 
either  of  you  in  that  corner." 

"Oh,  don't!  Please  don't  go!"  wailed  the 
girl 

Her  words  were  a  fillip  to  the  Ranger.  They 
sent  a  glow  through  his  blood.  He  knew  that  at 
that  moment  she  was  not  thinking  of  the  danger 
to  herself. 

"Don't  you  worry.  I'll  swing  round  on  him 
wide.  Ten  to  one  he 's  already  hittin'  the  dust  fast 
to  make  his  get-away." 

Be  slipped  out  of  the  room  and  out  of  the 


Oh,  You  Tex!  143 

house.  So  slowly  did  lie  move  that  it  was  more 
than  an  hour  before  he  returned  to  them. 

"I  guessed  right,"  he  told  the  cattleman.  "The 
fellow  hit  it  up  at  a  gallop  through  the  brush. 
He 's  ten  miles  from  here  now." 

"Was  he  after  me  or  you?" 

"Probably  me.  The  Rangers  ain't  popular 
with  some  citizens.  Looks  to  me  like  Steve  Gur- 
ley's  work." 

"I  would  n't  be  a  Ranger  if  I  was  you.  I'd  re- 
sign," said  Ramona  impulsively. 

"Would  you?"  Jack  glanced  humorously  at 
Wadley.  "I  don't  expect  yore  father  would  in- 
dorse them  sentiments,  Miss  Ramona.  He'd  tell 
me  to  go  through." 

Clint  nodded.  "  'Mona  said  you  wanted  to  see 
me  about  somethin'." 

The  young  man  showed  a  little  embarrass- 
ment. The  cattleman  guessed  the  reason.  He 
turned  to  his  daughter. 

"Private  business,  honey." 

Ramona  kissed  her  father  good-night  and 
shook  hands  with  Jack.  When  they  were  alone 
the  Ranger  mentioned  the  reason  for  his  call. 

"It's  goin'  around  that  Pete  Dinsmore  claims 
to  have  somethin'  on  Rutherford.  The  story  is 
that  he  says  you'd  better  lay  off  him  or  hell  tell 
what  he  knows." 

The  eyes  of  the  cattleman  winced.  Otherwise 
he  gave  no  sign  of  distress. 


144  Oh,  You  Tex! 

"I've  got  to  stand  the  gaff,  Jack.  He  can't 
blackmail  me,  even  if  the  hound  cooks  up  some 
infernal  story  about  Ford.  I  hate  it  most  on 
'Mona's  account.  It'll  hurt  the  little  girl  like 
sixty." 

Jack  was  of  that  opinion  too,  but  he  knew  that 
Wadley's  decision  not  to  throw  his  influence  to 
shield  the  Dinsmores  was  the  right  one. 

"She  thought  a  heap  o'  Ford,  'Mona  did,"  the 
cattleman  went  on.  "He  was  all  she  had  except 
me.  The  boy  was  wild.  Most  young  colts  are.  My 
fault.  I  made  things  too  easy  for  him  —  gave 
him  too  much  money  to  spend.  But  outside  of 
bein'  wild  he  was  all  right.  I  'd  hate  to  have  her 
hear  anything  against  him."  He  sighed.  "Well,  I 
reckon  what  must  be  must." 

"Stories  the  Dinsmores  tell  won't  count  with 
honest  folks.  Pete  is  one  bad  hombre.  Everybody 
will  know  why  he  talks  —  if  he  does.  That 's  a 
big  if  too.  He  knows  we've  got  evidence  to  tie 
his  gang  up  with  the  killin'  of  Ford.  He  does  n't 
know  how  much.  Consequence  is  he  '11  not  want 
to  raise  any  question  about  the  boy.  We  might 
come  back  at  him  too  strong." 

"Mebbeso."  Wadley  looked  at  the  Ranger  and 
his  gaze  appraised  Roberts  a  man  among  men.  He 
wished  that  he  had  been  given  a  son  like  this. 
"Boy,  you  kept  yore  wits  fine  to-night.  That  idea 
of  makin'  'Mona  walk  alone  to  the  house  an' 
keepin'  her  singin'  so's  a  bushwhacker  couldn't 


Oh,  You  Tex!  145 

make  any  mistake  an5  think  she  was  a  man  was 
a  jim-dandy." 

The  Ranger  rose.  He  had  not  the  same  diffi- 
culty in  parting  from  Wadley  or  any  other  man 
that  he  found  in  making  his  adieux  to  a  woman. 
He  simply  reached  for  his  hat,  nodded  almost  im- 
perceptibly, and  walked  out  of  the  house. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

TRAPPED 

THE  territory  which  Captain  Ellison  had  to  cover 
to  find  the  Dinsmore  gang  was  as  large  as  Maine. 
Over  this  country  the  buffalo-hunter  had  conie 
and  gone;  the  cattleman  was  coming  and  in- 
tended to  stay.  Large  stretches  of  it  were  en- 
tirely uninhabited ;  here  and  there  sod  or  adobe 
houses  marked  where  hardy  ranchers  had  located 
on  the  creeks;  and  in  a  few  places  small  settle- 
ments dotted  the  vast  prairies. 

There  were  in  those  days  three  towns  in  the 
Panhandle.  If  you  draw  a  line  due  east  from  Tas- 
cosa,  it  will  pass  very  close  to  Mobeetie,  a  hun- 
dred miles  away.  Clarendon  is  farther  to  the 
south.  In  the  seventies  Amarillo  was  only  what 
Jumbo  Wilkins  would  have  called  "a  whistlin'- 
post  in  the  desert,"  a  place  where  team  outfits 
camped  because  water  was  handy.  The  official 
capital  of  the  Panhandle  was  Mobeetie,  the  seat 
of  government  of  Wheeler  County,  to  which 
were  attached  for  judicial  purposes  more  than 
a  score  of  other  counties  not  yet  organized  or 
even  peopled. 

To  the  towns  of  the  Panhandle  were  drifting 
in  cowboys,  freighters,  merchants,  gamblers,  cat- 
tle outfits,  and  a  few  rustlers  from  Colorado,  New 


Oh,  You  Tex!  147 

Mexico,  and  the  more  settled  parts  of  Texas. 
They  were  the  hardier  sons  of  an  adventurous  race, 
for  each  man  had  to  make  good  his  footing  by 
his  own  strength.  At  first  there  had  been  no  law 
except  that  which  lay  in  the  good-will  of  men, 
and  the  holster  by  their  side.  The  sheriff  of 
Wheeler  County  had  neither  the  deputies  nor  the 
financial  backing  to  carry  justice  into  the  mes- 
quite.  Game  gunmen  served  as  marshals  in  the 
towns,  but  these  had  no  authority  on  the  plains. 
Until  Captain  Ellison  and  his  little  company  of 
Rangers  moved  into  the  district  there  had  been 
no  way  of  taking  law  into  the  chaparral.  The 
coming  of  these  quiet  men  in  buckskin  was  no- 
tice to  the  bad-man  that  murder  and  robbery 
were  not  merely  pleasant  pastimes. 

Yet  it  would  be  easy  to  overstate  the  lawless- 
ness of  the  Panhandle.  There  were  bad  men. 
Every  frontier  of  civilization  has  them.  But  of 
all  the  great  cattle  country  which  stretched  from 
Mexico  to  the  Canadian  line  none  had  a  finer 
or  more  orderly  citizenry  than  this.  The  country 
was  notably  free  of  the  bloodshed  which  drenched 
such  places  as  Dodge  City  to  the  east  or  Lincoln 
County,  New  Mexico,  to  the  west  of  the  Pan- 
handle. 

Ellison  wanted  the  Dinsmores,  not  because  he 
believed  he  could  yet  hang  any  serious  crime  on 
them  but  for  the  moral  effect  upon  them  and  the 
community.  Clint  Wadley  had  gone  looking  foi 


148  Oh,  You  Tex! 

trouble  and  had  been  wounded  in  consequence. 
No  Texas  jury  would  convict  on  that  count.  But 
it  was  not  a  conviction  the  fire-eating  little  Cap- 
tain wanted  just  now.  He  intended  to  show  that 
his  boys  could  go  out  and  arrest  the  Dinsmores 
or  any  other  lawbreakers,  whenever  the  occasion 
called  for  it.  It  might  take  them  a  week  or  a 
month  or  six  months,  but  they  would  bag  their 
game  in  the  end.  The  rule  of  the  Texas  Rangers 
was  to  sleep  on  a  man's  trail  until  they  found 
him. 

The  Captain  stationed  a  man  at  each  of  the 
three  towns.  He  sent  two  on  a  scouting-trip 
through  No  Man's  Land,  and  two  more  to  search 
Palo  Duro  Canon.  He  watched  the  stages  as  they 
went  and  came,  questioned  mule-skinners  with 
freight  outfits,  kept  an  eye  on  tendejons  and  feed- 
corrals.  And  at  the  end  of  three  weeks  he  had  no 
results  whatever  to  show,  except  a  sarcastic  note 
from  Pete  Dinsmore  complimenting  him  on  his 
force  of  Rangers. 

The  Captain  was  furious,  but  not  a  whit  dis- 
couraged. 

"Dog  it,  we'll  fight  it  out  on  this  line  if  it  takes 
all  summer,"  he  told  Lieutenant  Hawley,  his  sec- 
ond in  command. 

To  them  came  Jack  Roberts  with  a  proposition. 
"I  Ve  found  out  that  Homer  Dinsmore  has  a  girl 
in  Tascosa.  She 's  a  Mexican.  I  know  about  her 
through  Tony  Alviro.  It  seems  she 's  a  cousin  of 


Oh,  You  Tex!  149 

Bonita,  the  girl  Tony  is  going  to  marry.  About 
once  a  week  Dinsmore  rides  into  town  at  night, 
ties  his  horse  in  the  brush  back  of  her  house,  and 
goes  in  to  see  her.  If  you  say  so,  Chief,  I'll  make 
it  my  business  to  be  there  when  he  comes." 

"Need  any  help,  do  you  reckon?" 

"  No.  I  '11  have  to  hide  out  in  the  mesquite.  One 
man  will  be  better  on  that  job  than  two." 

"All  right,  son.  You  know  yore  job.  Get  him." 

That  was  all  the  warrant  Jack  wanted  or 
needed.  He  returned  to  Tascosa  and  made  his 
preparations. 

Every  night  after  dark  he  slipped  out  of  town 
by  the  north  road  till  he  was  on  the  open  prairie, 
then  swung  round  in  a  semicircle  skirting  the 
lights  of  the  settlement.  He  had  arranged  a  blind 
in  the  brush  from  which  he  could  see  the  back 
of  the  Menendez  "soddy."  Occasionally  he  com- 
forted himself  with  a  cautiously  smoked  ciga- 
rette, but  mostly  he  lay  patiently  watching  the 
trap  that  was  to  lure  his  prey.  At  one  o'clock  each 
morning  he  rose,  returned  on  his  beat,  went  to 
bed,  and  fell  instantly  asleep. 

On  the  fifth  night  there  was  a  variation  of  the 
programme. 

It  was  between  nine  and  ten  o'clock  that  Jack 
heard  the  hoot  of  an  owl.  He  sat  up  instantly, 
eyes  and  ears  keyed  for  action. 

The  back  door  of  the  sod-house  opened,  and 
through  the  night  stillness  floated  the  faint  strum- 


150  Oh,  You  Tex! 

mmg  of  a  guitar.  Jack  did  not  doubt  that  it  was 
the  answering  signal  to  show  that  all  was  safe. 

A  man  crept  forward  from  the  mesquite  a&d 
disappeared  inside  the  house. 

Through  the  brush  the  Ranger  snaked  his  way 
to  the  point  from  which  the  hooting  of  the  owl 
had  come.  A  bronco  was  tethered  to  a  bush.  An 
examination  showed  that  the  horse  had  been  rid- 
den far,  but  not  too  fast. 

Jack  was  satisfied  the  man  had  come  alone. 

A  faint  trail  wound  in  and  out  among  the  mes- 
quite and  the  cactus  to  the  house.  Beside  this 
trail,  behind  a  clump  of  prickly  pear,  the  Ranger 
sat  down  and  waited.  The  hour-hand  of  his 
wajch  crept  to  ten,  to  eleven,  to  twelve.  Roberts 
rose  occasionally,  stretched  himself  to  avoid  any 
chance  of  cramped  muscles,  and  counted  stars 
by  way  of  entertainment.  He  had  spent  more 
diverting  evenings,  but  there  was  a  good  chance 
that  the  fag  end  of  this  one  would  be  lively 
enough  to  compensate. 

Shortly  after  midnight  a  shaft  of  light  reached 
out  from  the  house  into  the  desert.  The  back  door 
had  opened.  A  woman  came  out,  took  a  few  steps 
forward,  peered  about  her,  and  called  that  all  was 
dear.  A  man  followed.  The  two  stood  talking  for 
a  minute  in  low  tones;  then  the  man  kissed  her 
and  turned  briskly  toward  the  brush.  According 
to  the  Ranger's  programme  the  girl  should  have 
returned  to  the  house,  but  instead  she  waited  in 


Oh,  You  Tex!  151 

the  moonlight  to  see  the  last  of  her  lover.  When 
he  waved  an  arm  to  her  and  cried  "Buenos  noches, 
chachita,"  she  threw  him  a  kiss  across  the  starlit 
prairie. 

Intent  on  his  good-night,  the  man  missed  the 
ill-defined  trail  that  led  to  his  horse  and  zig- 
zagged through  the  brush  at  another  angle.  The 
Ranger,  light-footed  as  a  cat,  moved  forward 
noiselessly  to  intercept  him,  crouching  low  and 
taking  advantage  of  all  the  cover  he  could  find. 
Luck  was  with  him.  Dinsmore  strode  within  a 
yard  of  the  kneeling  man  without  a  suspicion  of 
danger. 

A  powerful  forearm  slid  out  from  the  brush. 
Sinewy  fingers  caught  the  far  ankle  of  the  moving 
man.  One  strong  pull  sent  Dinsmore  off  his  bal- 
ance. The  outlaw  clutched  wildly  at  the  air  and 
came  crashing  down.  He  fell  into  a  bush  of  cat- 
claw  cactus. 

The  Ranger  was  on  him  like  a  wildcat.  Before 
his  victim  could:  make  a  move  to  defend  himself, 
Jack  had  the  man  handcuffed  with  his  arms  be- 
hind him. 

Dinsmore,  his  face  in  the  catclaw,  gave  a 
smothered  cry  for  help.  From  where  he  was,  the 
Ranger  could  not  see  the  house,  but  he  heard 
the  excited  voice  of  the  woman,  the  sound  of  a 
commotion,  and  the  beat  of  rapid  footsteps. 

An  excited  voice  called :  "  Quien  es?" 

The  trapped  man  wanted  to  explain,  but  his 


152  Oh,  You  Tex! 

captor  rubbed  the  face  of  the  outlaw  deeper  into 
the  torturing  spines  of  the  cactus. 

"Don't  ask  any  questions,"  advised  Roberts. 
"Get  back  into  the  house  pronto.  The  Rangers 
have  taken  Dinsmore.  Unless  you're  lookin'  for 
trouble,  you'd  better  vamos." 

Evidently  two  or  three  Mexicans  had  run  out 
to  the  rescue.  Jack  could  hear  them  discussing 
the  situation  in  whispers.  He  had  them  at  a  dou- 
ble disadvantage.  They  did  not  know  how  many 
Rangers  lay  in  the  mesquite;  nor  did  they  want 
to  fall  foul  of  them  in  any  case.  The  men  drew 
back  slowly,  still  in  excited  talk  among  them- 
selves, and  disappeared  inside  the  house.  The 
woman  protested  volubly  and  bitterly  till  the 
closing  of  the  door  stifled  her  voice. 

Jack  pulled  his  prisoner  to  a  more  comfortable 
position. 

"Sorry  you  fell  into  the  catclaw,  Dinsmore," 
he  said.  "If  you'll  stand  hitched,  I'll  draw  the 
spine  from  your  face." 

The  man  cursed  him  savagely. 

<:rdi  right,"  said  the  Ranger  amiably.  "If  you 
want  'em  as  souvenirs,  I'll  not  object.  Suits  me 
if  it  does  you.  We  '11  go  now." 

He  tied  to  the  handcuffs  the  end  of  the  lariat 
which  was  attached  to  the  saddle.  The  other  end 
he  fastened  to  the  pommel. 

"I'll  not  go  a  step  with  you,"  growled  Dins- 
more. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  153 

"Oh,  yes,  you'd  better  step  along.  I'd  hate  to 
have  to  drag  you  through  this  brush.  It 's  some 
rough." 

The  Ranger  swung  to  the  saddle.  The  bronco 
answered  the  pressure  of  the  rider's  knee  and 
began  to  move.  The  lariat  jerked  tight.  Sullenly 
Dinsmore  yielded. 

But  his  spirit  was  unbroken.  As  he  stumbled 
along  in  front  of  the  horse,  he  filled  the  night  with 
raucous  oaths. 

"Take  these  cuffs  off'n  me  and  come  down 
from  that  horse,"  he  stormed.  "Do  that,  and  I'll 
beat  off  yore  head." 

The  man  on  horseback  smiled.  "You're  the 
laziest  fellow  I  ever  did  see,  Dinsmore,"  he 
drawled.  "The  last  fellow  that  licked  me  pulled 
me  from  the  saddle." 

"Just  let  me  get  a  lick  at  you,"  pleaded  the 
outlaw.  "I'll  give  you  that  bronc  you're  ridin* 
if  you  '11  stand  up  to  me  man  to  man." 

"Can't  do  it.  I'm  here  for  business  an'  not  for 
pleasure.  Sorry." 

"You've  got  no  right  to  arrest  me.  What 's  the 
charge?" 

"I've  forgot  whether  it 's  brand-burning,  high- 
way robbery,  murder,  or  mayhem — -any  old 
crime  would  fit  you." 

:t  You've  got  no  evidence." 

"  Mebbeso,  mebbe  not,"  answered  the  Ranger 
lightly.  "Cap  Ellison  said  he'd  like  to  have  a 


154  Oh,  You  Tex! 

squint  at  you,  anyhow,  so  I  said  Fd  fetch,  you 
along.  No  trouble  a-tall  to  show  goods." 

The  outlaw  bared  his  tobacco-stained  teeth  in 
a  sudden  fury  of  rage.  "Some  day  I'll  gun  you 
right  for  this." 

The  narrow-loined  youth  with  the  well-packed 
shoulders  looked  down  at  him,  and  the  eyes  of 
the  officer  were  hard  and  steady  as  steel. 

"Dinsmore,"  he  said,  "we're  goin'  to  put  you 
an'  yore  outfit  out  o'  business  in  the  Panhandle. 
Your  day  is  done.  You've  run  on  the  rope  long 
enough.  I  '11  live  to  see  you  hanged  —  an'  soon." 


CHAPTER  XX 

KIOWAS  ON  THE  WARPATH 

JACK  ROBERTS  did  not  leave  town  inconspicu- 
ously with  his  prisoner  in  the  middle  of  the  night. 
He  made  instead  a  public  exit,  for  Captain  Elli- 
son wanted  to  show  the  Panhandle  that  the  law 
could  reach  out  and  get  the  Dinsmores  just  as  it 
could  any  other  criminals.  With  his  handcuffed 
captive  on  a  horse  beside  him,  the  Ranger  rode 
down  to  the  post-office  just  before  the  stage  left. 
Already  the  word  had  spread  that  one  of  the 
Dinsmores  had  been  taken  by  an  officer.  Now 
the  town  gathered  to  see  the  notorious  "bad- 
man"  and  his  tamer. 

Dinsmore  faced  the  curious  crowd  with  a  de- 
fiant sneer,  but  he  was  burning  with  rage  and 
humiliation.  He  and  his  crowd  had  carried  things 
with  a  high  hand.  They  were  not  only  outlaws; 
they  were  "bad-men"  in  the  frontier  sense  of  the 
word.  They  had  shot  down  turbulent  citizens  who 
disputed  their  sway.  Pete  and  Homer  especially 
had  won  reputations  as  killers,  and  game  men 
sidestepped  them  rather  than  deny  their  claims. 
Yet  twice  within  a  month  this  smooth-faced 
boy  had  crossed  their  path  and  bested  them. 
The  pride  of  Homer  Dinsmore  was  galled  to 
the  quick.  He  would  have  given  all  he  had  to 


156  Oh,  You  Tex! 

"get  a  lick  at"  the  Ranger  now  before  all  these 
people. 

Tascosa  watched  the  young  officer  and  his  cap* 
tive  from  a  distance.  The  townsfolk  offered  no 
audible  comment  on  the  situation,  either  by  way 
of  approval  or  disapproval.  The  fear  of  the  out- 
laws had  been  too  long  over  them.  This  was  not 
the  end  of  the  matter.  It  was  still  a  good  betting 
proposition  that  some  one  of  the  gang  would 
"get"  this  jaunty  youth  before  he  was  much 
older. 

But  it  is  certain  that  the  arrest  he  had  made 
single-handed  had  its  effect.  It  is  inevitable  that 
a  frontier  camp  shall  some  day  discard  its  wild 
youth  and  put  on  the  sobriety  of  a  settled  com- 
munity. Was  this  time  at  hand  for  the  Pan- 
handle? 

A  rider  galloped  out  of  town  after  the  horse- 
men. The  Ranger  turned  to  face  him  and  made 
sure  that  the  rifle  beneath  his  leg  would  slip  easily 
from  its  scabbard.  An  attempt  at  a  rescue  was 
always  a  possibility  on  the  cards. 

The  man  drew  his  cow-pony  up  beside  them. 

;"Evenin',  Mr.  Man-in-a-Hurry.  Lookin'  for 
anybody  in  particular?"  asked  the  red-haired 
Ranger,  his  chill  eyes  fixed  on  the  stranger. 

"For  you.  I  want  to  help  guard  your  prisoner 
to  Mobeetie." 

"Much  obliged,"  answered  Roberts  dryly. 
"Am  I  needin'  help?" 


Oh,  You  Tex!  157 

"You  may.  You've  got  to  sleep.  Let  me  ride 
with  you." 

The  brain  of  Jack  Roberts  began  to  register  a 
memory.  This  young  fellow  was  in  ragged  jeans 
and  a  butternut  shirt.  His  hair  was  long  and  un- 
kempt. He  looked  haggard  and  ill-fed.  But  he  was 
the  same  youth  the  Ranger  had  glimpsed  for  a 
moment  in  the  bravery  of  fine  clothes  and  gay 
address  on  the  day  of  the  bulldogging.  Jack  re- 
membered his  promise  to  Ramona  Wadley. 

"Fine!  Come  along.  We'll  take  watch  and 
Watch  through  the  night,"  he  told  the  boy. 

Homer  Dinsmore's  teeth  drew  back  in  a  deri- 
sive snarl.  "  Want  company  again  on  the  trip  so 's 
you  won't  be  robbed,  Mr.  Ridley?  " 

The  Easterner  did  not  answer,  but  color  flushed 
his  face  at  the  taunt. 

Roberts  offered  a  comment  on  his  behalf: 

"Ridley  was  young  then.  He's  gettin5  older 
every  day.  I  notice  he  did  n't  ask  for  company 
when  he  flung  himself  down  over  Clint  Wadley's 
body  to  protect  it  from  the  bullets  of  a  killer." 

All  afternoon  they  followed  the  Canadian 
River  as  it  wound  to  the  east.  They  made  camp 
beside  it  at  night,  cooking  the  coffee  on  a  fire  of 
buffalo  chips.  Jerked  beef  and  hardtack,  washed 
down  with  coffee,  was  their  fare. 

Dinsmore  had  fallen  into  a  sullen  silence,  but 
the  other  two  carried  on  desultory  talk.  The  two 
young  fellows  were  not  very  comfortable  in  each 


158  Oh,  You  Texl 

other's  society;  they  did  not  understand  the  men- 
tal habits  of  each  other.  But  Jack  maintained  a 
cheerful  friendliness  to  which  Arthur  responded 
gratefully.  Behind  the  curtain  of  their  talk  was 
a  girl.  The  spell  of  her  was  on  them  both.  Each 
of  them  could  see  her  in  the  coals  of  the  fire,  light- 
footed  and  slim,  with  shy  eyes  tender  and  shining. 
But  neither  of  them  drew  the  curtain  to  their 
deeper  thoughts. 

After  they  had  eaten,  the  Ranger  handcuffed 
his  prisoner  and  pegged  him  down  loosely.  He  put 
out  the  fire,  for  he  did  not  want  the  location  of 
the  camp  to  be  betrayed  by  smoke.  He  gave  Rid- 
ley the  first  watch  —  because  it  was  the  easier  of 
the  two.  With  a  saddle  for  a  pillow  and  a  slicker 
for  a  blanket,  he  lay  down  beneath  the  stars  and 
fell  asleep.  Once,  in  his  dreams,  he  thought  he 
heard  the  sound  of  beating  drums.  When  he  wak- 
ened at  the  time  set,  the  night  was  still.  The  pris- 
oner was  sound  asleep,  and  Ridley,  propped 
against  his  saddle,  was  keeping  vigilant  Watch. 

Robert  mentioned  his  fancy  about  the  drums. 

Arthur  smiled.  "Before  Dinsmore  turned  over 
he  was  snoring  like  a  far-away  thunder-storm.  I 
expect  that  ?s  what  you  heard." 

Jack  roused  the  others  as  soon  as  the  promise 
of  day  was  in  the  sky.  By  sunup  they  were  ready 
to  travel. 

There  was  a  bluff  back  of  the  camp  that  gave 
an  outlook  over  the  country.  The  Ranger  left  his 


Oh,  You  Tex!  159 

prisoner  in  the  care  of  Arthur  while  he  climbed 
to  its  summit  for  a  glance  up  and  down  the  river. 
He  knew  that  the  Mexican  girl  would  get  word 
to  the  friends  of  her  sweetheart  that  he  had  been 
arrested.  There  was  a  chance  that  they  might  al- 
ready be  close.  Anyhow,  it  would  do  no  harm  to 
see.  If  he  had  not  taken  that  precaution  un- 
doubtedly all  three  of  the  party  would  have  been 
dead  inside  of  half  an  hour. 

For  the  first  sweeping  glance  of  the  Ranger 
showed  him  a  tragedy.  The  valley  was  filled  with 
Indians.  Apparently  as  yet  they  did  not  know 
that  any  white  men  were  in  the  neighborhood,  for 
the  smoke  was  beginning  to  rise  from  morning 
fires.  In  a  little  pocket,  just  off  from  the  camp, 
their  ponies  were  herded.  At  the  opposite  side 
were  a  dozen  ox-wagons  grouped  together  in  a 
circle  to  form  a  corral.  The  tongue  of  the  nearest 
wagon  was  propped  up  by  a  yoke,  and  across 
it  was  the  naked  body  of  a  man  who  had  been 
crucified  and  tortured.  The  other  drivers  of  the 
freight  outfit  were  nowhere  in  sight.  Either  they 
were  lying  dead  behind  the  wagons,  or  they  had 
escaped  on  horseback. 

The  Ranger  drew  back  at  once  from  the  bluff. 
He  knew  that  probably  he  had  been  seen  by  the 
Indian  lookouts;  if  he  and  his  party  were  going 
to  get  away,  it  must  be  done  quickly.  He  ran 
down  the  hill  to  his  companions. 

"  Indians  —  Kiowas  —  hundreds  of  them,"  he 


160  Oh,  You  Tex! 

explained.  "They've  captured  a  freight  outfit 
and  killed  the  drivers.  We'll  cross  the  river  be- 
low their  camp  if  we  can."  As  he  spoke,  he  was 
busy  unlocking  the  handcuffs  of  the  prisoner.  To 
Dinsmore  he  gave  a  revolver. 

It  seemed  to  Ridley  that  his  heart  was  pump- 
ing water.  Death  with  torture  was  the  punish- 
ment given  captives  by  the  plains  Indians.  He 
knew  he  must  be  ghastly  white,  but  he  said  noth- 
ing. 

The  three  men  rode  out  of  the  ravine  to  the 
river.  Already  they  could  hear  the  yelling  of  the 
Kiowas  a  few  hundred  yards  above.  A  moment 
later  they  caught  sight  of  the  savages  pouring 
down  the  bank.  Those  in  front  were  on  foot. 
Others  farther  back,  on  the  round-bellied  Indian 
ponies,  were  galloping  to  catch  up. 

Half  a  mile  farther  down,  there  was  a  break 
in  the  river-bank  which  offered  a  better  chance 
for  crossing.  The  stream  there  broadened,  cut  in 
two  by  a  little  island.  The  three  riders  gained  on 
their  pursuers.  Bullets  whistled  past  them,  but 
they  did  not  stop  to  exchange  shots.  When  they 
reached  the  place  Jack  had  chosen  to  cross,  they 
were  four  or  five  hundred  yards  ahead  of  the 
leading  Indians. 

They  splashed  into  the  water.  Here  it  was  shal- 
low, but  along  the  edge  of  the  island  the  current 
was  running  swift.  The  Kiowas,  following  the 
fugitives  down  the  bank,  kept  up  a  scattering  fire. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  161 

The  bullets  struck  the  water  on  all  sides  of  the 
three  moving  targets.  Arthur  was  on  the  right, 
closest  to  the  Indians.  A  little  ahead  of  him  was 
Dinsmore.  Farther  over,  the  Ranger's  horse  was 
already  breasting  the  deep  water. 

Roberts  heard  young  Ridley  cry :  "  He 's  hit ! " 

The  Ranger  turned  his  head.  His  prisoner  was 
sagging  in  the  saddle.  Arthur  was  riding  beside 
the  wounded  man  and  trying  to  support  him. 

Jack  drew  up  his  horse,  holding  it  strongly 
against  the  current,  until  the  others  were  abreast 
of  him. 

"We've  got  to  swim  for  it,"  he  called  across 
to  Ridley.  "I '11  get  him  if  he  slips  out  of  the  sad- 
dle before  we  reach  shore." 

The  horses  swam  side  by  side.  Roberts  encour- 
aged Dinsmore,  riding  knee  to  knee  with  him. 
"Just  a  little  way  now.  Stick  it  out. . . .  We're 
right  dose  to  the  bank. . . .  Grab  the  horn 
tight." 

As  Dinsmore  slid  into  the  water  Jack  caught 
him  by  the  hair  of  the  head.  The  swift  water, 
racing  fast  round  the  shoulder  of  the  island,  tugged 
mightily  at  him.  But  the  body  of  the  Ranger's 
horse  was  a  barrier  to  keep  the  unconscious  man 
from  being  swept  downstream,  and  the  fingers  of 
the  rider  clung  to  the  thick  black  hair  like  steel 
clamps. 

They  reached  shallow  water.  The  Ranger  swung 
£rcm  the  saddle  and  carried  Dinsmore  up  through 


162  Oh,  You  Tex! 

the  thicket  that  edged  the  bank.  The  horses 
clambered  up  without  guidance,  and  Ridley 
drove  them  into  the  big  rocks,  where  they  would 
be  better  protected  from  the  shots  of  the  In- 
dians. 

The  Ranger  chose  the  best  cover  available  near 
the  head  of  the  island  and  put  the  wounded  man 
down  gently  on  the  ground.  Already  the  Kio- 
was  were  halfway  across  the  river.  Jack  counted 
twenty  of  them  on  horseback  in  the  water. 

"  Can  you  shoot?  "  he  asked  his  companion. 

Ridley  was  behind  a  rock  around  which  bushes 
grew  thick.  "B-better  than  I  could."  He  was 
shaking  with  excitement. 

"You  can't  miss  'em.  We've  got  'em  right  this 
time." 

Jack  fired.  An  Indian  plunged  headfirst  into 
the  water  like  a  stone  from  a  sling.  A  moment 
later  his  body  could  be  seen  swirling  in  the  swift 
current.  A  second  shot  shook  the  death  scream 
from  the  throat  of  another  brave. 

Twice  Arthur  missed. 

"You've  got  buck-fever.  Try  for  the  horses," 
suggested  the  Texan.  A  moment  later  he  gave  a 
little  whoop  of  encouragement.  The  naked  shining 
body  of  a  Kiowa  had  collapsed  on  the  bare  back 
of  a  pony.  Ridley  at  last  had  scored. 

Instantly  the  nervousness  of  the  Easterner 
disappeared.  His  shooting  had  not  the  deadly 
accuracy  of  Roberts,  but  he  was  a  good  marks- 


Oh,  You  Tex!  163 

man,  and  at  this  close-range  work  his  forty-five- 
seventy  did  clean  work. 

The  Texan  did  not  miss  a  shot.  He  picked  the 
leaders  and  took  his  time.  A  third,  a  fourth,  and 
a  fifth  brave  went  sliding  from  the  backs  of  the 
swimming  ponies. 

The  Kiowas  broke  under  the  deadly  fire.  Those 
not  yet  in  the  deep  water  turned  and  made  for 
the  shore  from  which  they  had  come.  The  others 
gave  with  the  current  and  drifted  past  the  island, 
their  bodies  hanging  from  the  far  side  of  the 
ponies. 

The  whites  on  the  island  shot  at  the  horses. 
More  than  one  redskin,  unable  to  get  out  of  the 
current  after  his  pony  had  been  shot,  floated 
down  the  river  for  miles  before  the  body  was 
found  by  his  tribe. 

"We  got  either  nine  or  ten,"  said  the  Ranger. 
"They'll  never  try  another  attack  from  that 
bank.  Probably  they'll  surround  the  island  to 
starve  us." 

He  put  down  his  rifle  and  opened  the  shirt  of 
the  wounded  man.  Dinsmore  had  been  shot  in 
the  back,  above  the  heart.  Jack  washed  out  the 
wound  and  bound  it  up  as  best  he  could.  The  out- 
law might  live,  or  he  might  not  —  assuming  that 
the  party  would  escape  from  the  savages. 

Jack  knew  that  this  was  an  assumption  not 
likely  to  be  fulfilled.  His  guess  was  that  there  were 
four  or  five  hundred  of  the  Kiowas.  They  would 


164  Oh,  You  Tex! 

immediately  post  a  line  of  guards  on  both  sides 
of  the  river.  There  was  a  chance  that  a  man  on 
a  fast  horse  might  make  a  get-away  if  he  left  at 
once.  He  proposed  to  Ridley  that  he  try  this. 

"Will  you  go  too?"  asked  Arthur. 

The  Ranger  shook  his  head.  "  Got  to  stay  with 
my  prisoner." 

"  I  '11  stay  too." 

"If  you  were  to  make  it,  you  could  send  me 
help." 

"Think  I  could  get  away?" 

The  Westerner  pointed  to  two  Indians  who 
were  swimming  the  river  below  out  of  rifle-shot. 
"I  doubt  it.  You  might  fight  yore  way  through, 
but  they'd  likely  get  you." 

"I'll  stick  it  out  here,  then." 

In  his  heart  Arthur  knew  that  he  was  not  stay* 
ing  to  face  the  danger  with  the  Texan.  When  once 
he  had  got  over  his  panic,  he  had  fought  coolly 
enough  under  the  eye  of  his  companion,  but  he 
lacked  the  stark  courage  to  face  the  chances  of 
that  long  ride  alone  for  help. 

"I  reckon  it's  too  late,  anyhow,"  agreed  Rob- 
erts. He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "It 's  a  toss-up, 
either  way.  But  we'll  sure  send  a  few  to  their 
happy  hunting-grounds  before  we  take  our  long 
journey." 

"You  think  — "  Arthur  let  his  fear-filled  eyes 
finish  the  question. 

The  Ranger  smiled  wryly.  "Yore  guess  is  as 


Oh,  You  Tex!  165 

good  as  mine.  I'll  say  this:  I've  been  in  tight 
holes  before  an'  came  through  O.  K.  I'll  back  my 
luck  to  stand  up  this  time  too." 

Arthur  looked  into  the  brown  face  of  this  spare, 
clear-eyed  youth  and  felt  that  he  would  give  his 
hopes  of  heaven  for  such  gameness.  They  had  not 
one  chance  in  ten  thousand  to  escape,  but  the 
sheer  nerve  of  the  boy  held  him  as  cool  and  easy 
as  though  he  were  sauntering  down  the  main 
street  at  Clarendon. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

TEX  TAKES  A  LONG  WALK 

EXCEPT  for  desultory  firing  the  Kiowas  left  the 
islanders  alone  for  the  rest  of  the  day.  The  fever 
of  the  wounded  man  mounted.  Most  of  the  time 
he  was  out  of  his  head,  and  hi  tossing  to  and  fro 
was  continually  disturbing  the  cold-water  ban- 
dages applied  by  the  Texan. 

As  soon  as  night  had  fallen,  Roberts  put  a  prop- 
osition to  his  companion.  "One  of  us  has  got  to 
go  for  help.  Take  yore  choice,  Ridley.  Will  you 
go  or  stay?" 

The  Easterner  felt  as  though  his  heart  had 
been  drenched  in  ice-water.  "Can't  we  wait  until 
some  one  comes?"  he  asked  timidly. 

"Who's  likely  to  come?  You  got  any  friends 
on  the  way?  I  haven't.  There's  another  thing: 
the  stage  will  be  along  to-morrow.  We've  got  to 
get  warnin'  to  it  that  the  Kiowas  are  on  the  war- 
path. If  we  don't  —  well,  you  know  what  hap- 
pened to  the  freight  outfit." 

"If  one  of  us  goes,  how  can  he  get  away? " 

"I've  thought  of  that.  It  will  be  dark  for  an 
hour  before  the  moon  gets  up.  The  one  that  goes 
will  have  to  drop  off  the  bank  an'  swim  down 
with  the  current  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  or  so, 
then  get  to  the  shore,  crawl  across  the  prairie  till 


Oh,  You  Tex!  167 

he 's  clear  of  the  sentries,  an'  make  a  bee-line  for 
Tascosa." 

"I  could  n't  find  my  way  in  the  dark,"  faltered 
Arthur. 

Jack  nodded.  "I  doubt  if  you  could.  I'm 
elected,  then." 

"  Why  --  why  can't  we  both  go?" 

"We  could  n't  take  Dinsmore  fifty  yards.  He 's 
too  sick  a  man." 

"  He 's  going  to  die  anyhow.  If  I  stay,  we  '11  both 
die  —  horribly.  It 's  every  man  for  himself  now." 

Jack  shook  his  head.  "If  you  feel  that  way, 
you  go  an'  I'll  stay." 

"I  —  I  can't  go  alone."  He  pushed  his  plea 
one  step  farther.  "He 's  a  criminal  —  a  murderer. 
He  'd  kill  you  if  he  could,  and  he 's  already  be- 
trayed me.  There's  no  call  for  us  to  wait  for 
certain  death  on  his  account." 

The  Ranger  spoke  gently.  "None  for  you,  but 
he 's  in  my  hands.  I'll  see  it  out.  Mebbe  you  can 
get  through  the  lines.  Crawl  through  the  grass. 
Keep  yo^H^rye  an'  lie  low  if  you  hear  'em  com- 
in'.  Oncy  you  're  through,  you  '11  be  all  right." 

"  I  tell  you  I  can't  go  alone.  If  it  has  to  be  that 
one  goes  and  one  stays,  then  I'll  stay." 

:< That's  how  it  has  to  be.  It's  about  an  even 
break,  I  reckon.  They're  liable  to  get  me  if  I  go. 
They're  liable  to  get  you  if  you  stay.  Then 
again,  they 're  liable  to  get  neither  of  us  if  I  can 
get  through." 


168  Oh,  You  Tex! 

"What  if  they  rush  me?" 

"Don't  lose  yore  head.  You  can  stand  'em  off. 
They'll  never  make  as  strong  an  attack  as  they 
did  this  mo'nin'.  If  they  make  any  real  rush,  it 
will  likely  be  just  before  daybreak.  Indians  don't 
do  business  at  night." 

Jack  made  his  preparations  swiftly.  He  took 
off  his  boots  and  tied  them  to  his  belt.  His  hat  he 
left  behind. 

"How  will  I  know  whether  you  get  through 
the  sentries?"  asked  Ridley. 

"If  you  hear  any  shootin',  you'll  know  I  prob- 
ably did  n't.  But  I  'm  sure  figurin'  on  gettin' 
through.  Don't  you  forget  for  a  minute  that 
every  hour  brings  help  nearer.  So  long,  old  man. 
Best  of  luck!" 

The  Ranger  grinned  cheerfully  at  the  other 
boy  as  he  crept  into  the  brush  at  the  edge  of  the 
water.  Presently  Arthur  heard  a  faint  plop  and 
knew  that  the  Texan  had  begun  his  journey. 

The  swift  current  carried  the  swimmer  down- 
stream rapidly.  He  used  his  arms  just  enough  to 
keep  himself  up,  and  let  the  power  of  the  water 
do  the  rest.  As  a  small  boy  he  had  lived  on  the 
Brazos.  He  knew  the  tricks  of  the  expert,  so  that 
he  was  able  now  to  swim  with  only  his  nose  show- 
ing. For  it  was  certain  that  the  Indians  had  set 
watchers  on  the  river  to  guard  against  an  escape. 

The  island  vanished  behind  him.  Now  and 
then  he  caught  from  one  bank  or  the  other  the 


Oh,  You  Tex!  169 

glow  of  camp-fires.  Once  he  was  sure  he  heard 
the  beating  of  a  tom-tom. 

And  once  he  gave  himself  up  for  lost.  The  jrapid 
current  had  swept  him  close  to  the  right  bank. 
Across  his  vision  flashed  a  picture  of  a  brave 
armed  with  bow  and  arrow  standing  above  him 
on  the  shore.  He  dived  instantly.  When  he  came 
up  for  air,  only  a  bit  of  his  red  topknot  showed. 
The  swimmer  heard  the  twang  of  an  arrow  and 
dived  a  second  time.  He  was  in  the  deep  shadows 
of  overhanging  brush  when  he  shook  the  water 
out  of  his  eyes  next  time.  For  a  dozen  seconds  he 
drew  his  breath  in  fear.  But  there  came  no  shout 
of  warning  to  other  watchers,  no  shot  or  outcry 
to  shatter  the  stillness.  He  guessed  that  the  Ki- 
owa  had  taken  him  for  a  log  drifting  downstream 
and  had  aimed  wantonly  to  test  his  accuracy. 

Several  hundred  yards  below  the  island  Jack 
caught  at  a  bush  projecting  into  the  water.  He 
swung  close  to  the  bank  and  very  cautiously  drew 
himself  out  of  the  river. 

He  listened.  Except  for  the  sound  of  the  rush- 
ing water  the  night  was  still.  Very  carefully  he 
wormed  his  way  forward  into  the  prairie.  His 
progress  was  slow,  for  he  had  to  make  sure  of  each 
foot  of  his  advance.  Under  cover  of  a  mesquite- 
bush  he  put  on  his  water-soaked  boots.  He  crept 
fifty  yards  —  one  hundred.  To  his  right  a  camp- 
fire  was  burning.  It  seemed  to  him  once  or  twice 
that  he  heard  voices. 


170  Oh,  You  Tex! 

An  old  trail  worn  nearly  a  foot  deep  by  buffa- 
loes served  his  need.  In  this  trench  he  was  partly 
hidden  and  could  make  better  progress.  He  trav- 
eled on  all  fours,  still  alert  in  every  sense  for  dan- 
ger. 

Suddenly  he  sank  full  length  into  the  trench. 
On  the  other  side  of  a  cactus-bush  two  Indians 
were  squatting.  They  sat  and  talked. 

The  heart  of  the  Ranger  sank.  At  any  moment 
they  might  discover  his  presence,  or  they  might 
sit  there  the  whole  night  and  hold  him  prisoner 
in  his  ditch. 

For  an  hour  he  lay  there,  wondering  each  mo- 
ment whether  the  ticking  of  his  watch  might  not 
betray  him.  Then,  in  a  leisurely  way,  the  sentries 
got  up  and  sauntered  toward  the  river.  The  moon 
was  up  now,  and  he  could  see  their  naked  bodies 
shining  in  the  light. 

The  two  Kiowas  stopped  a  moment  on  the 
bank  and  talked  before  they  separated.  One 
moved  up  the  river;  the  other  turned  and  came 
back  directly  toward  Roberts.  The  Ranger  lay 
in  the  buffalo-trail  hoping  that  in  the  darkness 
he  might  escape  observation.  He  was  helpless. 
Even  if  he  had  brought  a  gun  with  him  he  dared 
not  shoot,  for  if  the  alarm  were  given  he  would 
be  driven  out  of  cover  in  a  few  minutes. 

The  brave  came  forward  to  the  very  edge  of 
the  wallow.  His  moccasin  touched  the  body  of 
the  prostrate  man.  Some  slight  shift  of  his  atti- 


Oh,  You  Tex!  171 

tude  precipitated  the  crisis.  He  turned  to  listen 
to  some  sound,  and  his  foot  pressed  upon  the  leg 
of  the  Ranger. 

There  was  an  instant  volcanic  upheaval.  The 
Indian,  startled,  leaped  back.  Jack  was  upon  him 
like  a  wildcat.  They  struggled,  their  bodies  so 
close  that  the  Kiowa  could  not  use  his  rifle.  The 
Texan  had  a  double  advantage,  that  of  surprise 
and  of  a  more  muscular  body.  Moreover,  the  red- 
skin made  the  mistake  of  trying  to  cling  to  his 
gun.  He  was  flung  down  to  the  ground  hard,  the 
white  man  on  top  of  him. 

Jack  became  aware  that  the  Indian  was  going 
to  shout,  and  knew  that  if  he  did  all  was  lost.  His 
strong,  brown  fingers  closed  on  the  throat  of  the 
brave.  There  was  a  wild  thrashing  of  limbs  in  a 
struggle  to  escape.  The  grip  tightened,  cut  off  a 
gurgle  of  escaping  air.  The  naked  arms  and  legs 
jerked  more  feebly. .  .  . 

When  Roberts  crept  away  into  the  darkness 
he  carried  with  him  the  knife  of  the  Kiowa.  The 
rifle  would  only  have  hampered  him,  since  he  had 
to  travel  fast  and  light. 

With  every  yard  gained  now  he  was  nearer 
safety.  He  knew  he  was  leaving  the  camp  behind. 
Presently  he  rose  to  his  feet  and  traveled  faster. 
For  the  safety  of  the  two  on  the  island  depended 
upon  the  speed  with  which  he  covered  the  dis- 
tance between  him  and  Tascosa. 

The  plainsman  seldom  walks.  His  high-heeled 


172  Oh,  You  Tex! 

boots  would  be  torture  on  a  long  tramp.  When 
he  wants  to  reach  a  place,  he  rides  on  horseback. 
Jack  had  not  walked  five  miles  at  a  time  within 
a  dozen  years.  Now  his  long  legs  reached  for  the 
ground  in  a  steady  stride  that  ate  up  the  leagues. 
He  guided  his  course  by  the  stars  until  he  struck 
the  river  far  above  the  camp.  Once  he  stopped  for 
a  drink,  but  the  thought  of  Ridley  on  the  island 
drove  his  tired  limbs  on.  Heel  and  toe,  heel  and 
toe,  the  steady  march  continued,  till  the  Ranger, 
lithe  and  strong  though  the  wind  and  sun  and 
outdoor  life  had  made  him,  was  ready  to  drop 
with  fatigue.  His  feet,  pushed  forward  in  the  boots 
by  the  height  of  the  heels,  burned  as  with  fire 
from  the  pain  of  outraged  flesh  rubbing  against 
stiff  leather. 

But  it  was  not  in  him  to  quit.  He  set  his  teeth 
in  his  exhaustion  and  ploughed  on  up  the  trail. 
At  last  he  saw  the  far,  faint  lights  of  Tascosa. 
The  last  mile  or  two  were  interminable,  but  he 
walked  into  the  Bird  Cage  just  as  the  clock  on 
the  wall  was  striking  three. 

The  music  had  started  for  a  dance.  A  girl  in  a 
spangled  dress  ran  up  to  him. 

"Come  on.  Let's  dance,"  she  cried;  then 
stopped  and  looked  at  him  in  surprise:  "What's 
the  matter  with  you?  " 

The  Ranger  climbed  up  on  the  bar  and  beat 
upon  it  with  the  heel  of  his  boot.  The  dancers 
stopped  in  their  tracks  as  the  music  died. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  178 

"The  Kiowas  are  on  the  warpath.  They've  got 
two  white  men  trapped  on  the  big  island  below 
the  bend.  Gather  all  the  horses,  guns,  and  men 
you  can.  We  start  in  twenty  minutes." 

Cowboys  left  their  partners  standing  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor.  The  musicians  dropped  their 
bows  and  fiddles.  Bar-tenders  left  unfilled  the 
orders  they  had  just  taken.  For  Indians  in  their 
war-paint  were  a  fact  always  very  near  to  the 
frontiersman,  and  whatever  faults  the  Southwest 
may  have  had  in  those  days,  its  warm  heart 
answered  instantly  the  call  for  help. 

The  dancers  scattered  in  all  directions  to  get 
ready.  A  gong,  beaten  by  the  owner  of  the  Bird 
Cage,  rang  out  stridently  into  the  quiet  night 
to  rally  sleeping  citizens.  Children,  wakened  by 
the  clamor,  began  to  wail.  Dogs  barked.  Excited 
men  flung  out  questions  and  hurried  away  with- 
out waiting  for  answers. 

But  out  of  the  confusion  came  swift  action. 
Each  man  looked  to  his  own  ammunition,  wea- 
pons, horse.  Women  hurriedly  put  up  lunches 
and  packed  saddlebags  with  supplies.  In  an  in- 
credibly short  time  a  company  of  fifty  riders  had 
gathered  in  front  of  the  Bird  Cage. 

With  the  Ranger  at  their  head,  they  went  out 
of  town  at  a  fast  trot.  If  there  had  been  anybody 
there  to  notice  it,  he  would  have  seen  that  the 
clock  on  the  wall  at  the  Bird  Cage  registered 
the  time  as  twenty-seven  minutes  past  three. 


CHAPTER  XXH 

THE  TEST 

Ridley  heard  the  faint  plop  of  the  Ran- 
ger's body  as  it  dropped  into  the  water,  his  heart 
died  under  the  fifth  rib.  He  was  alone  —  alone 
with  a  wounded  man  in  his  care,  and  five  hun- 
dred fiends  ravenous  for  his  blood.  For  a  moment 
the  temptation  was  strong  in  him  to  follow 
Roberts  into  the  water.  Why  should  he  stay  to 
let  these  devils  torture  him?  Dinsmore  had  be- 
trayed him,  to  the  ruination  of  his  life.  He  owed 
the  fellow  nothing  but  ill-will.  And  the  man  was 
a  triple-notch  murderer.  It  would  be  a  good  rid- 
dance to  the  country  if  he  should  be  killed. 

But  the  arguments  of  the  young  fellow  did  not 
convince  him.  He  had  showed  the  white  feather 
once  on  impulse,  without  a  chance  to  reason  out 
the  thing.  But  if  he  deserted  this  wounded  man 
now  he  would  be  a  yellow  coyote  —  and  he  knew 
it.  There  was  something  in  him  stronger  than 
fear  that  took  him  back  to  the  helpless  outlaw 
babbling  disjointed  ravings. 

He  bathed  the  man's  fevered  body  with  cold 
water  from  the  river  and  changed  the  bandages 
on  the  wound.  He  listened,  in  an  agony  of  appre- 
hension, for  the  sound  of  a  shot.  None  came,  but 
this  did  not  bring  certainty  that  the  Ranger  had 


Oh,  You  Tex!  175 

escaped.  He  had  left  behind  all  his  arms,  and  it 
was  quite  possible  that  they  had  captured  him 
without  first  wounding  him. 

Arthur  reasoned  with  himself  about  his  terror. 
Of  what  use  was  it?  Why  fear,  since  he  had  to 
face  the  danger  anyhow?  But  when  he  thought 
of  the  morning  and  what  it  would  bring  forth  he 
was  sick  with  the  dread  he  could  not  crush. 

The  hours  lagged  endlessly.  He  had  his  watch 
out  a  thousand  times  trying  to  read  its  face.  Oc- 
casionally he  crept  around  the  island  to  make 
sure  the  Kiowas  were  not  trying  to  surprise  him. 
Hope  began  to  grow  in  him  as  the  night  grew  old, 
and  this  alternated  with  terror;  for  he  knew  that 
with  the  coming  of  dawn,  the  redskins  would  be- 
gin an  attack. 

His  mind  followed  the  Ranger  on  his  journey. 
By  this  time  he  must  surely  be  halfway  to  Tas- 
cosa  if  he  had  escaped  the  Kiowas.  .  .  .  Now  he 
might  have  reached  the  cottonwood  clump  be- 
yond Big  Ford.  .  .  .  Perhaps  he  might  jump  up 
a  camp  outfit  with  horses.  If  so,  that  would  cut 
down  the  time  needed  to  reach  town. 

Five  o'clock  by  Ridley's  watch!  He  made  an- 
other circuit  of  his  little  island,  and  at  the  head 
of  it  stopped  to  peer  into  the  lessening  darkness. 
A  log,  traveling  down  the  river  from  some  point 
near  its  headwaters  in  New  Mexico,  was  drifting 
toward  the  island.  His  attention  was  arrested  by 
the  way  it  traveled.  A  log  in  a  stream  follows  the 


176  Oh,  You  Tex! 

line  of  least  resistance.  It  floats  in  such  a  way  as 
to  offer  the  smallest  surface  to  the  force  of  the 
current.  But  this  log  was  going  down  at  a  right 
angle  to  the  bank  instead  of  parallel  to  it.  Was 
it  being  propelled  by  the  current  alone,  or  by 
some  living  power  behind  it? 

Ridley  posted  himself  behind  a  cotton  wood, 
his  repeater  ready  for  action.  In  another  mo- 
ment he  would  know,  because  if  the  log  was  adrift 
in  the  river,  it  would  miss  the  point  of  the  island 
and  keep  on  its  way. 

Straight  to  the  point  of  land  the  log  came.  There 
it  stuck  against  the  nose  of  the  island.  A  head  fol- 
lowed by  a  naked  body  drew  itself  from  behind  the 
log  and  climbed  across  it  to  the  bank  above.  A  sec- 
ond head  and  body  appeared,  a  third  and  a  fourth. 

Ridley's  fear  was  gone.  He  had  a  job  to  do,  and 
he  went  at  it  in  a  workmanlike  manner.  His  first 
shot  dropped  the  bra-ve  on  the  bank.  His  second 
missed,  his  third  went  hissing  up  the  river.  But 
the  fourth  caught  full  in  the  throat  one  of  the 
Kiowas  on  the  log.  The  painted  warrior  shot 
headfirst  into  the  water  and  dropped  as  though 
he  had  been  a  stone.  Before  Arthur  could  fire 
again,  the  passengers  astride  the  dead  tree  dived 
into  the  stream.  Slowly  the  log  swung  around  and 
was  sucked  into  the  current.  Here  and  there  a 
feathered  head  bobbed  up.  The  boy  fired  at  them 
from  a  sense  of  duty,  but  he  did  not  flatter 
self  that  he  had  scored  another  hit. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  177 

But  the  Immediate  danger  of  being  rushed  wa& 
past.  Ridley  circled  the  island  again  to  make  sure 
that  the  attack  at  the  head  had  not  been  a  feint 
to  cover  one  in  the  rear. 

During  the  night  Arthur  had  not  been  idle. 
Behind  a  large  rock  he  had  scooped  out  a  small 
cave  in  which  he  and  the  wounded  man  might 
lie  protected.  Now  the  Indians,  in  the  full  light 
of  day,  were  spraying  the  spot  with  bullets.  For^ 
tunately  they  were  notoriously  poor  shots,  and 
their  guns  were  the  worst  ever  made.  For  hours 
the  fusillade  continued.  Occasionally  the  defender 
answered  with  a  shot  or  two  to  discourage  any 
further  attempt  at  storming  his  position. 

The  most  welcome  sound  in  Ridley's  life  was 
A  scattering  volley  of  shots  that  came  from  back 
of  the  Kiowa  camp.  There  was  a  sudden  rush  for 
horses  by  the  braves  and  the  scurry  of  pounding 
hoofs  as  they  fled  across  the  prairie.  A  moment 
later  came  the  whoop  of  the  cowboys  in  the  res- 
cue party. 

Arthur,  in  an  ecstasy  of  relief,  ran  to  the  edge 
of  the  water  and  waved  his  hat.  Across  the  river 
came  in  answer  the  "Yip-yip,  yippy-yip-yip "  of 
the  line-riders  in  the  company.  Several  of  them 
plunged  into  the  stream  and  swam  their  horses 
across  to  the  island.  Among  these  were  Jumbo 
Wilkins  and  Tex  Roberts. 

"I  see  you  done  held  the  fort,  son,"  said  the  fat 
man.  "Fine  and  dandy!  How  's  Dinsmore?" 


178  Oh,  You  Tex! 

"Quieter.  He  slept  a  good  deal  in  the  night. 
How  are  we  going  to  get  him  across  the  river?  " 

The  Ranger  joined  them.  He  nodded  a  friendly 
greeting  at  Ridley. 

"Our  luck  held  up  all  right.  I  see  you  been 
doin'  some  fancy  shootin'." 

Arthur  looked  at  him.  The  eyes  of  the  East- 
erner were  full  of  timid  doubt.  What  did  this 
game  Texan  think  of  him  who  had  proposed  to 
leave  a  wounded  man  to  his  fate?  The  Ranger 
beamed  a  kindly  comradeship,  but  the  other  young 
fellow  wondered  what  was  passing  in  the  back 
of  his  mind. 

They  held  a  committee  on  ways  and  means 
about  Dinsmore. 

"We  can't  stay  here  —  got  to  get  him  to  town 
where  he  can  be  fixed  up,"  Jumbo  said. 

"We'll  take  him  over  to  the  other  bank  and 
send  for  a  buckboard,"  decided  Jack. 

The  wounded  man  was  carried  to  the  head  of 
the  island,  and  strapped  to  the  back  of  a  horse. 
Jumbo,  Roberts,  and  Ridley  guided  the  horse 
into  the  current  and  helped  it  fight  through  to 
the  shallow  water  beyond. 

Twenty-four  hours  later  Dinsmore  was  in  bed 
in  Tascosa.  Dr.  Bridgman  said,  with  the  usual 
qualification  about  complications,  that  the  man 
probably  would  get  well.  The  bullet  had  not  punc- 
tured his  lungs. 


CHAPTER  XXm 

A  SHY  YOUNG  MAN  DINES 

RAMONA  met  Arthur  Ridley  face  to  face  just  out- 
side of  the  post-office. 

:<You  dandy  boy!"  she  cried,  and  held  out 
both  hands  to  him.  Her  eyes  were  shining.  The 
gifts  of  friendship  and  admiration  were  in  them. 

He  could  not  find  a  word  to  say.  A  lump  rose  in 
his  throat  and  choked  him. 

"It  was  just  fine  of  you  —  fine!"  she  told  him. 
"I  was  so  glad  to  hear  that  a  friend  of  mine  did 
it.  You  are  still  my  friend,  are  n't  you?" 

"If  you'll  let  me  be,"  he  said  humbly.  "But  — 
I  have  n't  done  anything  to  deserve  it." 

"  Everybody 's  praising  you  because  you  stayed 
with  that  Dinsmore  man  and  saved  his  life  at  the 
risk  of  your  own  —  after  he  had  treated  you  so 
mean  too.  I  'm  so  proud  of  you." 

"You  need  n't  be,"  he  answered  bluntly.  "I 
wanted  to  slip  away  and  leave  him.  I  —  I  pro- 
posed it  to  Jack  Roberts.  But  he  would  n't  have 
it.  He  laid  the  law  down.  One  of  us  had  to  go,  one 
stay.  I  had  n't  the  nerve  to  go,  so  I  stayed." 

,-  "I  don't  believe  it  —  not  for  a  minute,"  came 
her  quick,  indignant  response.  "And  if  you  did  — 
what  of  it?  It  is  n't  what  we  want  to  do  that 
counts.  It 's  what  we  really  do ! " 


180  Oh,  You  Tex! 

He  shook  his  head  wistfully.  He  would  have 
liked  to  believe  her,  but  he  felt  there  was  no  credit 
due  him. 

"I  fought  because  I  had  to  if  I  was  going  to 
save  my  own  skin.  I  have  n't  told  any  one  else 
this,  but  I  can't  have  you  thinking  me  game 
when  I  know  I  'm  not." 

"  Was  it  to  save  yourself  you  flung  yourself  down 
in  front  of  father  and  let  that  awful  man  Dinsmore 
shoot  at  you?"  she  demanded,  eyes  flashing. 

"A  fellow  can't  stand  by  and  see  some  one 
murdered  without  lifting  a  hand.  I  did  n't  have 
time  to  get  frightened  that  time." 

"Well,  all  I've  got  to  say  is  that  you're  the 
biggest  goose  I  ever  saw,  Art  Ridley.  Here  you  've 
done  two  fine  things  and  you  go  around  trying 
to  show  what  a  big  coward  you  are." 

He  smiled  gravely.  "I'm  not  advertising  it.  I 
told  you  because  — " 

"  — Because  you're  afraid  I'll  think  too  well 
of  you." 

"Because  I  want  you  to  know  me  as  I  am." 

"Then  if  I'm  to  know  you  as  you  are  I'll  have 
to  get  a  chance  to  see  what  you  really  are.  Dad 
and  Auntie  and  I  will  expect  you  to  supper  to- 
morrow night." 

"Thank  you.  I'll  be  there." 

Casually  she  enlarged  her  invitation.  "I  don't 
suppose  you'll  see  that  very  shy  young  man,  Mr. 
Roberts." 


Oh,  You  Tex!  181 

"I  might." 

"Then,  will  you  ask  him  to  come  too?  I'm 
going  to  find  out  whether  you  acted  as  scared 
as  you  say  you  did." 

"Jack  knows  how  scared  I  was,  but  he  won't 
tell.  Sure  I'll  get  word  to  him." 

He  did.  At  precisely  six  o'clock  the  two  young 
men  appeared  at  the  home  of  Clint  Wadley's 
sister.  The  Ranger  was  a  very  self-conscious 
guest.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had  dined  with 
ladies  at  their  home  since  he  had  lost  his  own 
mother  ten  years  earlier.  He  did  not  know  what 
to  do  with  his  hands  and  feet.  The  same  would 
have  been  true  of  his  hat  if  Ramona  had  not 
solved  that  problem  by  taking  it  from  him.  His 
tongue  clove  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth.  He  felt  a 
good  deal  warmer  than  the  actual  temperature 
of  the  room  demanded. 

But  Ramona  noticed  from  the  background 
that  as  soon  as  she  and  her  aunt  retired  from 
the  scene  his  embarrassment  vanished.  This 
slim,  brown  young  man  was  quite  at  his  ease 
with  Clint  Wadley,  much  more  so  than  young 
Ridley.  He  was  essentially  a  man's  man,  and 
his  young  hostess  liked  him  none  the  less  for 
that. 

She  made  a  chance  to  talk  with  him  alone  after 
supper.  They  were  standing  in  the  parlor  near 
the  window.  Ramona  pressed  the  end  of  her  little 
finger  against  a  hole  in  the  pane. 


182  Oh,  You  Tex! 

"I  wonder  if  you'd  like  me  to  sing  'Swanee 
River'  for  you,  Mr.  Roberts?"  she  asked. 

He  did  not  mind  being  teased.  By  this  time  he 
had  regained  his  confidence.  He  had  discovered 
that  she  would  not  bite  even  though  she  might 
laugh  at  him  in  a  friendly  way. 

"You  sing  it  fine,"  he  said. 

"I  was  n't  singing  it  for  you  the  other  time, 
but  for  Mr.  —  what  's-his-name,  Gurley?" 

"  I  could  n't  very  well  have  you  keep  shoutin5 
out, '  I  ?m  a  girl, '  so  I  figured  — •  " 

"I  know  what  you  figured,  sir.  You  wanted  to 
take  all  the  chances  that  were  taken.  Father  says 
it  was  the  quickest-witted  thing  he  ever  knew." 
She  shot  another  dart  at  him,  to  his  confusion. 
"Do  you  like  my  voice?" 

"Well,  ma'am,  I—" 

"You  don't  have  to  tell  any  stories.  I  see  you 
don't." 

Jack  took  heart.  "If  you're  fishin'  for  a  com- 
pliment— " 

"What  a  tactful  thing  to  tell  a  girl,"  she  said, 
smiling. 

" — I'll  tell  you  that  I  never  heard  you  sing 
better." 

"Or  worse,  for  that  matter,"  she  added;  and 
with  one  of  her  swift  changes  of  mood  switched 
the  topic  of  conversation.  "How  do  you  like  Art 
Ridley?" 

"He '11  do  to  take  along." 


Oh,  You  Tex!  183 

"That 's  not  the  way  he  talks.  He  says  he  — 
he  wanted  to  run  away  from  the  island  and  leave 
that  man  Dinsmore,  but  you  would  n't  let  him." 
Her  eyes  met  his  very  directly. 

"He  's  a  great  lad  for  imaginin'  things.  I  never 
want  to  see  any  one  hold  up  his  end  better." 

"You  mean  that  he  did  n't  say  he  wanted  to 
leave  Dinsrnore?" 

With  her  gaze  searching  him  so  steadily,  it  had 
to  be  an  out-and-out  lie  to  serve.  Jack  lied  com- 
petently. "Not  a  word." 

Her  little  finger  tapped  the  hole  in  the  pane 
gently  while  she  reflected.  "He  told  me  — " 

"That  boy's  still  worryin'  about  losin'  that 
money  for  Mr.  Wadley,  don't  you  reckon?  He  's 
got  it  tucked  in  his  mind  that  a  game  man  never 
would  have  been  robbed.  So  he 's  decided  he  must 
be  yellow.  Nothin'  to  it  a-tall.  No  quitter  ever 
would  have  stood  off  those  Kiowas  like  he  did." 

"That 's  what  I  think."  She  turned  to  the  Ran- 
ger again,  nodding  agreement.  "You've  relieved 
my  mind.  I  should  n't  like  to  think  that  — " 

She  let  her  sentence  trail  out  to  nothing.  Jack 
Roberts  guessed  its  conclusion.  She  would  n't 
like  to  think  that  the  man  she  loved  was  not 
game. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

TEX  BORROWS  A  BLACKSNAKE 

DINSMORE  recovered  from  his  wound  and  was 
.held  prisoner  by  Captain  Ellison  for  a  month 
after  he  was  well.  Then  the  ranger  captain  dis- 
missed the  man  with  a  warning. 

"Skedaddle,  you  damn  jayhawker,"  was  his 
cavalier  farewell.  "But  listen.  If  ever  I  get  the 
deadwood  on  you  an'  yore  outfit,  I'll  sure  put 
you  through.  You  know  me,  Dinsmore.  I  went 
through  the  war.  For  two  years  I  took  the  hides 
off'n  'em.1  I'm  one  of  the  lads  that  knocked  the 
bark  off  this  country.  An'  I  've  got  the  best  bunch 
of  man-hunters  you  ever  did  see.  I'm  not  brag- 
gin'.  I'm  tellin'  you  that  my  boys  will  make  you 
look  like  a  plugged  nickel  if  you  don't  get  shet 
of  yore  meanness.  They're  a  hell-poppin'  bunch 
of  jim-dandies,  an'  don't  you  ever  forget  it." 

Homer  Dinsmore  spat  tobacco- juice  on  the 
floor  by  way  of  expressing  his  contempt.  "Hell!" 
he  sneered.  "We  were  doin'  business  in  this  neck 
of  the  woods  before  ever  you  come,  an'  we'll  be 
here  after  you've  gone." 

The  Ranger  Captain  gave  a  little  shrug  to  his 
shoulders.  "Some  folks  ain't  got  any  more  sense 

1  To  "take  the  hides  off'n  'em  "  was  the  expressive  phraseology 
in  which  the  buffalo-hunter  described  his  business. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  185 

than  that  hog  rootin'  under  the  pecan  tree,  Dins- 
oaore.  I've  seen  this  country  when  you  could 
swap  a  buffalo-bull  hide  for  a  box  of  cartridges 
or  a  plug  o'  tobacco.  You  cayn't  do  it  now,  can 
you?  I  had  thirty  wagons  full  of  bales  of  hides  at 
old  Fort  Griffin  two  years  ago.  Now  I  could  n't 
fill  one  with  the  best  of  luck.  In  five  years  the  buf- 
faloes will  be  gone  absolutely  —  mebbe  in  less 
time.  The  Indians  are  goin'  with  the  buffaloes  — 
an'  the  bad-men  are  a-goin'  to  travel  the  same 
trail.  Inside  of  three  years  they'll  sure  be  hard 
to  find  outside  of  jails.  But  you  got  to  go  yore 
own  way.  You're  hard  to  curry,  an'  you  wear 
'em  low.  Suits  me  if  it  does  you.  We'll  plant  you 
with  yore  boots  on,  one  of  these  days." 

Dinsmore  swaggered  from  the  jail  and  pres- 
ently rode  out  of  town  to  join  his  companions. 
Three  days  later  an  acquaintance  stopped  Jack 
Roberts  on  the  street. 

"Seen  Cap  Ellison  this  mo'nin'?  He  was  down 
at  the  shippin'-pen  an'  wanted  to  see  you.  The 
old  man's  hot  as  a  ginger-mill  about  some- 
thin'." 

The  Ranger  strolled  down  toward  the  cattle- 
yards.  On  the  way  he  met  Arthur  Ridley.  They 
had  come  to  be  pretty  good  friends  in  the  past 
month.  The  standards  of  the  Texan  were  under- 
going revision.  He  had  been  brought  up  in  an 
outdoor  school  which  taught  that  the  rock-bot- 
tom factor  of  a  man's  character  is  gameness. 


186  Oh,  You  Tex! 

Without  it  nothing  else  counted.  This  was  as 
vital  for  a  man  as  virtue  for  a  woman.  But  it  had 
begun  to  reach  him  that  pluck  is  largely  a  matter 
of  training.  Arthur  had  lived  soft,  and  his  nerve, 
like  his  muscles,  needed  toughening.  Were  his 
gayety,  his  loyalty,  his  fundamental  decency, 
the  affectionate  sweetness  of  his  disposition,  to 
count  for  nothing?  He  had  a  dozen  advantages 
that  Jack  had  not,  and  the  cowboy  admired  him 
even  though  he  was  not  hard  as  a  rock. 

"Have  you  spoken  to  Captain  Ellison  yet?'* 
asked  Ridley  eagerly. 

"  Says  he 's  thinkin'  about  it,  Art.  There 's  goin* 
to  be  a  vacancy  on  the  force  soon.  My  notion  is 
that  you'll  get  the  appointment." 

It  was  a  part  of  Ridley's  charm  for  the  Texan 
that  he  would  not  give  up  to  his  timidity.  The 
young  fellow  meant  to  fight  it  out  to  a  finish.  That 
was  one  of  the  reasons  why  he  wanted  to  join  the 
Rangers,  to  be  put  in  places  that  would  force  him 
to  go  through  to  a  fighting  finish.  He  had  one 
other  reason.  Arthur  wanted  to  settle  a  score 
with  the  Dinsmores. 

Captain  Ellison  was  listening  to  the  complaint 
of  a  drover. 

"I  aim  to  drive  a  clean  herd,  Cap,  but  you 
know  how  it  is  yore  own  self.  I  start  to  drive  in 
the  spring  when  the  hair 's  long  an'  the  brand 's 
hard  to  read.  By  the  time  I  get  here,  the  old  hair 
is  f  allin'  out  an'  the  brand  is  plain.  But  what 's  ^ 


Oh,  You  Tex!  187 

fellow  to  do?  I  cayn't  drop  those  off-brands  by 
the  way,  can  I?  The  inspector  — " 

"That's  all  right,  Steel.  The  inspector  knows 
you're  on  the  level.  Hello,  Jack!  I  beenlookin' 
for  you." 

The  Captain  drew  his  man  to  one  side.  "Steve 
Gurley's  in  town.  He  came  as  a  spokesman  for 
the  Dinsmores  an'  went  to  see  Clint  Wadley.  The 
damn  scoundrel  served  notice  on  Clint  that  the 
gang  had  written  evidence  which  tied  Ford  up 
with  their  deviltry.  He  said  if  Clint  did  n't  call 
me  off  so 's  I  'd  let  'em  alone,  they  would  disgrace 
his  son's  memory.  Of  course  Wadley  is  all  broke 
up  about  it.  But  he's  no  quitter.  He  knows  I'm 
goin'  through,  an'  he  would  n't  expect  me  not  to 
do  the  work  I  'm  paid  for." 

"Do  you  want  me  to  arrest  Gurley  ?  " 

"  Would  n't  do  any  good.  No ;  just  keep  tabs  on 
the  coyote  till  he  leaves  town.  He  ought  to  be  black- 
snaked,  but  that 's  not  our  business,  I  reckon." 

Ridley  walked  back  with  the  Ranger  toward 
the  main  street  of  the  town.  From  round  a  corner 
there  came  to  them  a  strident  voice. 

"You  stay  right  here,  missy,  till  I'm  through. 
I'm  tellin'  you  about  yore  high-heeled  brother. 
See?  He  was  a  rustler.  That 's  what  he  was  —  a 
low-down  thief  and  brand-blotter." 

"Let  me  pass.  I  won't  listen  to  you."  The  clear 
young  voice  was  expressive  of  both  indignation 
and  fear. 


188  Oh,  You  Tex! 

"Not  a  step  till  I'm  through  tellin'  you,  Me, 
I'm  Steve  Gurley,  the  curly-haired  terror  of  the 
Panhandle.  When  I  talk,  you  listen.  Understand?  " 

The  speech  of  the  man  was  thick  with  drink. 
He  had  spent  the  night  at  the  Bird  Cage  and  was 
now  on  his  way  to  the  corral  for  his  horse. 

"You  take  Miss  Ramona  home.  I'll  tend  to 
Gurley ,"  said  Roberts  curtly  to  his  friend.  Into 
his  eyes  had  come  a  cold  rage  Arthur  had  never 
before  seen  there. 

At  sight  of  them  the  bully's  brutal  insolence 
vanished.  He  tried  to  pass  on  his  way,  but  the 
Ranger  stopped  him. 

"Just  a  moment,  Gurley.  You're  goin'  with 
me,"  said  Jack,  ominously  quiet. 

White  and  shaken,  'Mona  bit  her  lip  to  keep 
from  weeping.  She  flashed  one  look  of  gratitude 
at  her  father's  former  line-rider,  and  with  a  little 
sob  of  relief  took  Ridley's  offered  arm. 

"You  got  a  warrant  for  me?"  bluffed  the  out- 
law. 

At  short  range  there  is  no  weapon  more  deadly 
than  the  human  eye.  Jack  Roberts  looked  at  the 
bully  and  said:  "Give  me  yore  gun." 

Steve  Gurley  shot  his  slant  look  at  the  Ranger, 
considered  possibilities  —  and  did  as  he  was  told. 

"Now  right  about  face  and  back-track  up- 
town," ordered  the  officer. 

At  McGuffey's  store  Jack  stopped  his  prisoner. 
A  dozen  punchers  and  cattlemen  were  hanging 


Oh,  You  Tex!  189 

about.  Among  them  was"  Jumbo  Wilkins.  He  had 
a  blacksnake  whip  in  his  hand  and  was  teasing  a 
pup  with  it.  The  Ranger  handed  over  to  Jumbo 
his  guns  and  borrowed  the  whip. 

Gurley  backed  off  in  a  sudden  alarm.  "Don't 
you  touch  me!  Don't  you  dass  touch  me!  I'll  cut 
yore  heart  out  if  you  do." 

The  lash  whistled  through  the  air  and  wound 
itself  cruelly  round  the  legs  of  the  bully.  The  man 
gave  a  yell  of  rage  and  pain.  He  lunged  forward 
to  close  with  Roberts,  and  met  a  driving  left  that 
caught  him  between  the  eyes  and  flung  him  back. 
Before  he  could  recover  the  Ranger  had  him  by 
the  collar  at  arm's  length  and  the  torture  of  the 
whip  was  maddening  him.  He  cursed,  struggled, 
raved,  threatened,  begged  for  mercy.  He  tried 
to  fling  himself  to  the  ground.  He  wept  tears  of 
agony.  But  there  was  no  escape  from  the  deadly 
blacksnake  that  was  cutting  his  flesh  to  ribbons. 

Roberts,  sick  at  the  thing  he  had  been  doing, 
flung  the  shrieking  man  aside  and  leaned  up 
against  the  wall  of  the  store. 

Jumbo  came  across  to  him  and  offered  his 
friend  a  drink. 

"You'll  feel  better  if  you  take  a  swallow  of  old 
forty-rod,"  he  promised. 

The  younger  man  shook  his  head.  "Much 
obliged,  old-timer.  I'm  all  right  now.  It  was  a 
kind  of  sickenin'  job,  but  I  had  to  do  it  or  kill 
him." 


190  Oh,  You  Tex! 

"What  was  it  all  about?"  asked  Jumbo  ea- 
gerly. The  fat  line-rider  was  a  good  deal  of  a  gos- 
sip and  loved  to  know  the  inside  of  every  story. 

Jack  cast  about  for  a  reason.  "He  —  he  said 
I  had  red  hair." 

"Well,  you  old  son  of  a  mule-skinner,  what 's 
the  matter  with  that?  You  have,  ain't  you?"  de- 
manded the  amazed  Wilkins. 

"  Mebbe  I  have,  but  he  can't  tell  me  so." 

That  was  all  the  satisfaction  the  public  ever 
got.  It  did  a  good  deal  of  guessing,  however,  and 
none  of  it  came  near  the  truth. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

"THEY'RE  RUNNIN'  ME  OUTA  TOWN" 

JUMBO  WILKINS  came  wheezing  into  the  Sunset 
Trail  corral,  where  Jack  Roberts  was  mending  a 
broken  bridle.  "  'Lo,  Tex.  Looks  like  you're  git- 
tin'  popular,  son.  Folks  a-comin'  in  fifty  miles  for 
to  have  a  little  talk  with  you." 

The  eyes  of  the  Ranger  grew  intelligent.  He 
knew  Jumbo's  habit  of  mind.  The  big  line-rider 
always  made  the  most  of  any  news  he  might  have. 

"Friends  of  mine?  "  asked  Jack  casually. 

"Well,  mebbe  friends  ain't  just  the  word.  Say 
acquaintances.  You  know  'em  well  enough  to 
shoot  at  and  to  blacksnake  'em,  but  not  well 
enough  to  drink  with." 

"Did  they  say  they  wanted  to  see  me?" 

"A  nod  is  as  good  as  a  wink  to  a  blind  bronc. 
They  said  they'd  come  to  make  you  hard  to 
find." 

The  Ranger  hammered  down  a  rivet  carefully. 
"Many  of 'em?" 

"Two  this  trip.  One  of  'em  used  to  think  yore 
topknot  was  red.  I  dunno  what  he  thinks  now." 

"And  the  other?" 

"  Carries  the  brand  of  Overstreet." 

"Where  are  these  anxious  citizens,  Jumbo?" 

"Last  I  saw  of  'em  they  were  at  the  Bird  Cage 


192  Oh,  You  Tex! 

lappin'  up  another  of  the  same.  They ' ve  got  busi* 
ness  with  Clint  Wadley,  too,  they  said." 

Jack  guessed  that  business  was  blackmail.  It 
occurred  to  him  that  since  these  visitors  had 
come  to  town  to  see  him,  he  had  better  gratify 
their  desire  promptly.  Perhaps  after  they  had 
talked  with  him  they  might  not  have  time  to  do 
their  business  with  Wadley. 

As  Jumbo  waddled  uptown  beside  him,  Rob- 
erts arranged  the  details  of  his  little  plan.  They 
separated  at  the  corner  of  the  street  a  block  from 
the  Bird  Cage.  Wilkins  had  offered  to  lend  a 
hand,  but  his  friend  defined  the  limit  of  the  help 
he  might  give. 

"You  come  in,  shake  hands  with  me,  an'  ask 
that  question.  Then  you're  through.  Under- 
stand, Jumbo?" 

"Sure.  But  I  want  to  tell  you  again  Overstreet 
is  no  false-alarm  bad-man.  He  '11  fight  at  the  drop 
of  the  hat.  That 's  his  reputation,  anyhow  — • 
wears  'em  low  an'  conies  a-shootin'." 

"I'll  watch  out  for  him.  An'  I'll  look  for  you 
in  about  three  minutes." 

"  Me,  I  '11  be  there,  son,  and  I  wish  you  the  best 
of  luck." 

Gurley  was  at  the  bar  facing  the  door  when 
the  Ranger  walked  into  the  Bird  Cage.  He  had 
been  just  ready  to  gulp  down  another  drink,  but 
as  his  eyes  fell  on  this  youth  who  came  forward 
with  an  elastic  step  the  heart  died  within  him.  It 


Oh,  You  Tex!  193 

had  been  easy  while  the  liquor  was  in  his  brain 
to  brag  of  what  he  meant  to  do.  It  was  quite 
another  thing  to  face  in  battle  this  brown,  com- 
petent youth  who  could  hit  silver  dollars  in  the 
air  with  a  revolver. 

His  companion  read  in  Gurley's  sallow  face 
the  dismay  that  had  attacked  him.  Over  street 
turned  and  faced  the  newcomer.  The  outlaw  was 
a  short,  heavy-set  man  with  remarkably  long 
arms.  He  had  come  from  Trinidad,  Colorado, 
and  brought  with  him  the  reputation  of  a  killer. 
His  eyes  looked  hard  at  the  red-haired  youngster, 
but  he  made  no  comment. 

Jack  spoke  to  the  bartender.  He  looked  at 
neither  of  the  bad-men,  but  he  was  very  coolly 
and  alertly  on  guard. 

"Joe,  I  left  my  blacksnake  at  home,"  he  said. 
"Have  you  got  one  handy?" 

"Some  guys  are  lucky,  Steve,"  jeered  Over- 
street,  taking  his  cue  from  the  Ranger.  "Because 
you  fell  over  a  box  and  this  fellow  beat  you  up 
while  you  was  down,  he  thinks  he 's  a  regular  go- 
getter.  He  looks  to  me  like  a  counterfeit  four-bit 
piece,  if  anybody  asks  you." 

Jumbo  Wilkins  puffed  into  the  place  and  ac- 
cepted the  Ranger's  invitation  to  take  a  drink. 

"What  makes  you  so  gaunted,  Jack?  You  look 
right  peaked,"  he  commented  as  they  waited  for 
their  drinks. 

" Scared  stiff.  Jumbo.  I  hear  two  wild  an* 


194  Oh,  You  Tex! 

woolly  bad-men  are  after  me.  One  is  a  tall,  lop- 
sided, cock-eyed  rooster,  an'  the  other  is  a  ham- 
mered-down  sawed-off  runt.  They  sure  have  got 
me  good  an'  scared.  I've  been  runnin'  ever  since 
I  heard  they  were  in  town." 

Gurley  gulped  down  his  drink  and  turned  to- 
ward the  door  hastily.  "  Come,  let 's  go,  Over- 
street.  I  got  to  see  a  man." 

The  Texan  and  the  Coloradoan  looked  at  each 
other  with  steel-cold  eyes.  They  measured  each 
other  in  deadly  silence,  and  while  one  might  have 
counted  twenty  the  shadow  of  death  hovered 
over  the  room.  Then  Overstreet  made  his  choice. 
The  bragging  had  all  been  done  by  Gurley.  He 
could  save  his  face  without  putting  up  a  fight. 

"Funny  how  some  folks  are  all  blown  up  by  a 
little  luck,"  he  sneered,  and  he  followed  his  friend 
to  the  street. 

:*You  got  'em  buffaloed  sure,  Jack.  Tell  me 
how  you  do  it,"  demanded  Jumbo  with  a  fat  grin. 

"I'm  the  law,  Jumbo." 

"Go  tell  that  to  the  Mexicans,  son.  What  do 
you  reckon  a  killer  like  Overstreet  cares  for  the 
law?  He  figured  you  might  down  him  before  he 
could  gun  you  —  did  n't  want  to  risk  an  even 
break  with  you." 

The  Ranger  poured  his  untasted  liquor  into 
the  spittoon  and  settled  the  bill.  "Think  I  '11  drop 
around  to  the  Silver  Dollar  an'  see  if  my  birds 
have  lit  again." 


Oh,  You  TexK  195 

At  the  Silver  Dollar  Jack  found  his  friend  the 
ex-Confederate  doing  business  with  another  cat- 
tleman. 

"I'd  call  that  a  sorry-lookin'  lot,  Winters,"  he 
was  saying.  "I  know  a  jack-pot  bunch  of  cows 
when  I  see  'em.  They  look  to  me  like  they  been 
fed  on  short  grass  an'  shin-oak."  His  face  lighted 
at  sight  of  the  Ranger.  "Hello,  brindle-haid ! 
Did  n't  know  you  was  in  town." 

The  quick  eye  of  the  officer  had  swept  over  the 
place  and  found  the  two  men  he  wanted  sitting 
inconspicuously  at  a  small  table. 

"I'm  not  here  for  long,  Sam.  Two  genuwine 
blown-in-the-bottle  bad-men  are  after  my  scalp. 
They're  runnin'  me  outa  town.  Seen  anything 
of  'em?  They  belong  to  the  Dinsmore  outfit." 

The  old  soldier  looked  at  him  with  a  sudden 
startled  expression.  He  knew  well  what  men  were 
sitting  against  the  wall  a  few  steps  from  him. 
This  was  talk  that  might  have  to  be  backed  by  a 
six-shooter.  Bullets  were  likely  to  be  flying  soon. 

"You  don't  look  to  me  like  you're  hittin'  yore 
heels  very  fast  to  make  a  get-away,  Jack,"  he 
said  dryly. 

"I'm  sure  on  the  jump.  They're  no  bully-puss 
kind  of  men,  but  sure  enough  terrors  from  the 
chaparral.  If  I  never  get  out  o'  town,  ship  my 
saddle  in  a  gunny-sack  to  my  brother  at  Dallas." 

"Makin'  yore  will,  are  you?"  inquired  Joe 
Johnston's  former  trooper. 


196  Oh,  You  Tex! 

The  red-haired  man  grinned.  "I  got  to  make 
arrangements.  They  came  here  to  get  me.  Two 
of  'em  —  bad-men  with  blood  in  their  eyes.5'  He 
hummed,  with  jaunty  insolence: 

"He's  a  killer  and  a  hater! 
He's  the  great  annihilator! 
He's  a  terror  of  the  boundless  prai-ree. 

"That  goes  double.  I'm  certainly  one  anxious 
citizen.  Don't  you  let  'em  hurt  me,  Sam." 

There  was  a  movement  at  the  table  where  the 
two  men  were  sitting.  One  of  them  had  slid  from 
his  chair  and  was  moving  toward  the  back  door. 

The  Ranger  pretended  to  catch  sight  of  him 
for  the  first  time.  "Hello,  Gurley!  What's  yore 
hurry?  Got  to  see  another  man,  have  you?" 

The  rustler  did  not  wait  to  answer.  He  van- 
ished through  the  door  and  fled  down  the  alley 
in  the  direction  of  the  corral.  Overstreet  could 
do  as  he  pleased,  but  he  intended  to  slap  a  saddle 
on  his  horse  and  make  tracks  for  the  cap-rock 
country. 

Overstreet  himself  was  not  precisely  comfort- 
able in  his  mind,  but  he  did  not  intend  to  let  a 
smooth-faced  boy  run  him  out  of  the  gambling- 
house  before  a  dozen  witnesses.  If  he  had  to  fight, 
he  would  fight.  But  in  his  heart  he  cursed  Gurley 
for  a  yellow-backed  braggart.  The  fellow  had  got 
him  into  this  and  then  turned  tail.  The  man  from 
Colorado  wished  devoutly  that  Pete  Dinsmore 
were  beside  him. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  197 

"You're  talkin'  at  me,  young  fellow.  Listen: 
I  ain't  lookin'  for  any  trouble  with  you  —  none 
a-tall.  But  I  'm  not  Steve  Gurley .  Where  I  come 
from,  folks  grow  man-size.  Don't  lean  on  me  too 
hard.  I'm  liable  to  decrease  the  census  of  red- 
haired  guys." 

Overstreet  rose  and  glared  at  him,  but  at  the 
same  time  one  hand  was  reaching  for  his  hat. 

"You  leavin'  town  too,  Mr.  Overstreet?"  in- 
quired the  Ranger. 

"  What 's  it  to  you?  I  '11  go  when  I  'm  ready." 

"'We  shall  meet,  but  we  shall  miss  you  — 
there  will  be  one  vacant  chair,'"  murmured  the 
young  officer,  misquoting  a  song  of  the  day. 
"Seems  like  there's  nothin'  to  this  life  but 
meetin'  an'  partin'.  Here  you  are  one  minute, 
an'  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  you're  hittin'  the  high 
spots  try  in'  to  catch  up  with  friend  Steve." 

"Who  said  so?  I'll  go  when  I'm  good  an' 
ready,"  reiterated  the  bad-man. 

"Well,  yore  bronc  needs  a  gallop  to  take  the 
kinks  out  of  his  legs.  Give  my  regards  to  the  Dins- 
mores  an'  tell  'em  that  Tascosa  is  no  sort  of  place 
for  shorthorns  or  tinhorns." 

"Better  come  an'  give  them  regards  yore  own 
self." 

"Mebbe  I  will,  one  of  these  glad  mo'nin's.  So 
long,  Mr.  Overstreet.  Much  obliged  to  you  an' 
Steve  for  not  massacreein'  me." 

The  ironic  thanks  of  the  Ranger  were  lost,  for 


198  Oh,  You  Tex! 

the  killer  from  Colorado  was  already  swaggering 
out  of  the  front  door. 

The  old  Confederate  gave  a  whoop  of  delight. 
"I  never  did  see  yore  match,  you  doggoned  old 
scalawag.  You  'd  better  go  up  into  Mexico  and 
make  Billy  the  Kid 1  eat  out  of  yore  hand.  This 
tame  country  is  no  place  for  you,  Jack." 

Roberts  made  his  usual  patient  explanation. 
"It's  the  law.  They  can't  buck  the  whole  Lone 
Star  State.  If  he  shot  me,  a  whole  passel  of  Ran- 
gers would  be  on  his  back  pretty  soon.  So  he  hits 
the  trail  instead."  He  turned  to  Ridley,  who  had 
just  come  into  the  Silver  Dollar.  "Art,  will  you 
keep  cases  on  Overstreet  an'  see  whether  he  leaves 
town  right  away  ?  " 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  Ridley  was  back 
with  information. 

"  Overstreet 's  left  town  —  lit  out  after  Gur- 
ley." 

The  old  Rebel  grinned.  "He  won't  catch  him 
this  side  of  the  cap-rock." 

1  Billy  The  Kid  was  the  most  notorious  outlaw  of  the  day. 
He  is  said  to  have  killed  twenty-one  men  before  Sheriff  Pat 
Garrett  killed  him  at  the  age  of  twenty-one  years. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

FOR  PROFESSIONAL  SERVICES 

MR.  PETER  DINSMORE  was  of  both  an  impulsive 
and  obstinate  disposition.  He  wanted  what  he 
wanted  when  he  wanted  it.  Somewhere  he  had 
heard  that  if  a  man  desired  his  business  well  done, 
he  must  do  it  himself.  Gurley  had  proved  a  poor 
messenger.  Peter  would  call  upon  Clint  Wadley 
in  person  and  arrange  an  armistice. 

He  had  another  and  a  more  urgent  reason  for 
getting  to  town  promptly.  A  jumping  toothache 
had  kept  him  awake  all  night.  After  he  reached 
Tascosa,  Dinsmore  was  annoyed  to  find  that  Dr. 
Bridgman  had  ridden  down  the  river  to  look  after 
the  fractured  leg  of  a  mule-skinner. 

"Isn't  there  any  one  else  in  this  condemned 
burg  can  pull  teeth?"  he  demanded  irritably  of 
the  bartender  at  the  Bird  Cage. 

"There  certainly  is.  Buttermilk  Brown  is  a 
sure-enough  dentist.  He  had  to  take  to  bull- 
whackin'  for  to  make  a  livin',  but  I  reckon  he  's 
not  forgot  how.  You'll  probably  find  him  sleepin' 
oft  a  hang-over  at  the  Four-Bit  Corral." 

This  prophecy  proved  true,  but  Dinsmore  was 
not  one  to  let  trifles  turn  him  aside.  He  led  the 
reluctant  ex-dentist  to  a  water-trough  and  soused 
his  head  under  the  pump. 


£00  Oh,  You  Tex! 

"Is  that  a-plenty?"  he  asked  presently,  de- 
sisting from  his  exercise  with  the  pump-handle. 

Buttermilk  sputtered  a  half-drowned  assent. 
His  nerves  were  still  jumpy,  and  his  head  was 
not  clear,  but  he  had  had  enough  cold  water. 
Heroic  treatment  of  this  sort  was  not  necessary 
to  fit  him  for  pulling  a  tooth. 

They  adjourned  to  the  room  where  Butter- 
milk had  stored  his  professional  tools.  Dinsmore 
indicated  the  back  tooth  that  had  to  come  out. 
The  dentist  peered  at  it,  inserted  his  forceps  and 
set  to  work.  The  tooth  came  out  hard,  but  at  last 
he  exhibited  its  long  prongs  to  the  tortured  vic- 
tim. 

"We  get  results,"  said  Buttermilk  proudly. 

"How  much?"  asked  Pete. 

It  happened  that  the  dentist  did  not  know  his 
patient.  He  put  a  price  of  five  dollars  on  the  job. 
Dinsmore  paid  it  and  walked  with  Buttermilk 
to  the  nearest  saloon  for  a  drink. 

Pete  needed  a  little  bracer.  The  jumping  pain 
still  pounded  like  a  piledriver  at  his  jaw.  While 
the  bartender  was  handing  him  a  glass  and  a 
bottle,  Dinsmore  caressed  tenderly  the  aching 
emptiness  and  made  a  horrible  discovery.  But- 
termilk Brown  had  pulled  the  wrong  tooth. 

Considering  his  temperament,  Pete  showed 
remarkable  self-restraint.  He  did  not  slay  Butter- 
milk violently  and  instantly.  Instead  he  led  him 
back  to  the  room  of  torture. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  201 

"You  pulled  the  wrong  tooth,  you  drunken 
wreck,"  he  said  in  effect,  but  in  much  more  em- 
phatic words.  "Now  yank  out  the  right  one,  and 
if  you  make  another  mistake  — " 

He  did  not  finish  the  threat,  but  it  is  possible 
that  Buttermilk  understood.  The  dentist  re- 
moved with  difficulty  the  diseased  molar. 

"Well,  we're  through  now,"  he  said  cheerfully. 
"I  don't  know  as  I  ought  to  charge  you  for  that 
last  one.  I  '11  leave  that  to  you  to  say." 

"We're  not  quite  through,"  corrected  the  pa- 
tient. "I'm  goin'  to  teach  you  to  play  monkey- 
shines  with  Pete  Dinsmore's  teeth."  He  laid  a 
large  revolver  on  the  table  and  picked  up  the 
forceps.  "Take  that  chair,  you  bowlegged,  knock- 
kneed,  run-down  runt." 

Buttermilk  protested  in  vain.  He  begged  the 
bad-man  for  mercy  with  tears  in  his  eyes. 

"I'm  goin'  to  do  Scripture  to  you,  and  then 
some,"  explained  Dinsmore.  "It  says  in  the  Bi- 
ble a  tooth  for  a  tooth,  but  I  aim  to  pay  good 


measure." 


The  amateur  dentist  pulled  four  teeth  and 
played  no  favorites.  A  molar,  a  bicuspid,  a  ca- 
nine, and  an  incisor  were  laid  in  succession  on 
the  table. 

Buttermilk  Brown  wept  with  rage  and  pain. 

"Four  times  five  is  twenty.  Dig  up  twenty 
dollars  for  professional  services,"  said  Pete. 

His  tearful  patient  paid  the  fee.  This  was  the 


202  Oh,  You  Tex! 

most  painful,  violent,  and  high-handed  episode 
of  Buttermilk's  young  life.  Never  in  Shelbyville, 
Indiana,  from  which  town  he  had  migrated  hope- 
fully westward  with  his  diploma,  had  such  out- 
rages been  heard  of. 

The  instruments  of  Providence  are  sometimes 
strange  ones.  Nobody  would  have  picked  Pete 
Dinsmore  for  a  reformer,  but  he  changed  the 
course  of  one  young  dentist's  life.  Buttermilk 
fled  from  the  Southwest  in  horror,  took -.the 
pledge  eagerly,  returned  to  Shelbyville  and  mar- 
ried the  belle  of  the  town.  He  became  a  specialist 
in  bridge-work,  of  which  he  carried  a  golden  ex- 
ample in  his  own  mouth.  His  wife  has  always  un- 
derstood that  Dr.  Brown  —  nobody  ever  called 
him  Buttermilk  in  his  portly,  prosperous  Indi- 
ana days  —  lost  his  teeth  trying  to  save  a  child 
from  a  runaway.  Be  that  as  it  may,  there  is 
no  record  that  he  ever  again  pulled  the  wrong 
tooth  for  a  patient. 

r  Having  completed  his  deed  of  justice,  Dins- 
more  in  high  good  humor  with  himself  set  out  to 
call  on  Clint  Wadley.  He  had  made  an  inoffen- 
sive human  being  suffer,  and  that  is  always  some- 
thing to  a  man's  credit.  If  he  could  not  do  any 
better,  Pete  would  bully  a  horse,  but  he  natu- 
rally preferred  humans.  They  were  more  sensitive 
to  pain. 


CHAPTER  XXVH 

CLINT  FREES  HIS  MIND 

WADLEY  was  sitting  on  the  porch  with  Ramona. 
He  was  still  a  semi-invalid,  and  when  he  exer- 
cised too  much  his  daughter  scolded  him  like  the 
little  mother  sfce  was. 

"Keep  me  here  much  longer,  an'  I'll  turn  into 
a  regular  old  gossip  in^&reeches,"  he  complained. 
"  I  '11  be  Jumbo  Wilkins  Number  Two,  like  as  not." 

"Is  Jumbo  a  specialist  in  gossip?"  asked  Ra- 
mona. She  liked  to  get  her  father  at  reminis- 
cences. It  helped  to  pass  time  that  hung  heavy 
on  his  hands. 

"Is  he?  Girl,  he  could  talk  a  hind  leg  cff'n  a 
buckskin  mule,  Jumbo  could."  He  stopped  to 
chuckle.  "Oncet,  when  we  were  drivin'  a  bunch 
of  yearlin's  on  the  Brazos,  one  of  the  boys  picked 
up  an  old  skull.  Prob'ly  some  poor  fellow  killed 
by  the  Indians.  Anyhow,  that  night  when  Jumbo 
was  wound  up  good,  one  of  the  lads  pretended 
to  discover  that  skull  an'  brought  it  into  the 
camp-fire  light.  Some  one  had  wrote  on  it :  *  Talked 
to  death  by  Jumbo  Wilkins." 

'Mona^rather  missed  the  point.  She  was  watch- 
ing a  man  slouching  down  the  road  toward  them. 
He  was  heavy-set  and  unwieldy,  and  he  wore  a 
wrinkled  suit  of  butternut  jeans. 


204  Oh,  You  Tex! 

The  eyes  of  the  cattleman  chilled.  "You  go 
into  the  hoose,  'Mona.  That  fellow 's  Pete  Dins- 
more.  I  don't  want  you  to  meet  him." 

"Don't  you,  Dad?"  The  heart  of  the  girl  flut- 
tered at  sight  of  this  man  who  had  nearly  killed 
her  father,  but  it  was  not  fear  but  anger  that 
burned  in  her  eyes.  "I'm  going  to  sit  right  here. 
What  does  he  want?  He 's  not  coming  —  to  make 
trouble,  is  he?" 

"No.  We've  got  business  to  settle.  You  run 
along  in." 

"I  know  what  your  business  is.  It's  —  about 
Ford." 

He  looked  at  her  in  surprised  dismay.  "Who 
told  you  that,  honey?  " 

"I'll  tell  you  about  that  after  he's  gone.  I 
want  to  stay,  Dad,  to  show  him  that  I  know 
all  about  it,  and  that  we're  not  going  to  let 
him  carry  out  any  blackmailing  scheme  against 


us." 


Dinsmore  nodded  grouchily  as  he  came  up  the 
walk  to  the  house.  Wadley  did  not  ask  him  to  sit 
down,  and  since  there  were  no  unoccupied  chairs 
the  rustler  remained  standing. 

"I  got  to  have  a  talk  with  you,  Clint,"  the  out- 
law said.  "  Send  yore  girl  into  the  house." 

"She'll  listen  to  anything  you  have  to  say, 
Dinsmore.  Get  through  with  it  soon  as  you  can, 
an'  hit  the  trail,"  said  the  cattleman  curtly. 

The  other  man  flushed  darkly.   "You  talk 


Oh,  You  Tex!  205 

mighty  biggity  these  days.  I  remember  when 
you  was  n't  nothin'  but  a  busted  line-rider." 

"Mebbeso.  And  before  that  I  was  a  soldier  in 
the  army  while  you  was  doin'  guerrilla  jayhawk- 


inV 


"Go  ahead.  Say  anything  you've  a  mind  to, 
Clint.  I  '11  make  you  pay  before  I  'm  through  with 
you,"  answered  the  bad-man  venomously. 

"You  will  if  you  can;  I  know  that.  You're  a 
bad  lot,  Dinsmore,  you  an'  yore  whole  outfit.  I  'm 
glad  Ellison  an'  his  Rangers  are  goin'  to  clear  you 
out  of  the  country.  A  sure-enough  good  riddance, 
if  any  one  asks  me." 

The  cattleman  looked  hard  at  him.  He  too  had 
been  a  fighting  man,  but  it  was  not  his  reputa- 
tion for  gameness  that  restrained  the  ruffian. 
Wadley  was  a  notch  too  high  for  him.  He  could 
kill  another  bad-man  or  some  drunken  loafer  and 
get  away  with  it.  But  he  had  seen  the  sentiment 
of  the  country  when  his  brother  had  wounded 
the  cattleman.  It  would  not  do  to  go  too  far. 
Times  were  changing  in  the  Panhandle.  Hence- 
forth lawlessness  would  have  to  travel  by  night 
and  work  under  cover.  With  the  coming  of  the 
Rangers,  men  who  favored  law  were  more  out- 
spoken. Dinsmore  noticed  that  they  deferred 
less  to  him,  partly,  no  doubt,  because  of  what 
that  fool  boy  Roberts  had  done  without  having 
yet  had  to  pay  for  it. 

"That's  what  I've  come  to  see  you  about, 


206  Oh,  You  Tex! 

Wadley.  I  'm  not  lookin'  for  trouble,  but  I  never 
ran  away  from  it  in  my  life.  No  livin'  man  can 
lay  on  me  without  hell  poppin'.  You  know  it." 

"Is  that  what  you  came  to  tell  me,  Dins- 
more?"  asked  the  owner  of  the  A  T  O,  his  mouth 
set  grim  and  hard. 

There  was  an  ugly  look  on  the  face  of  the  out- 
law, a  cold  glitter  of  anger  in  his  deep-set  eyes. 
"I  hear  you  set  the  world  an'  all  by  that  girl  of 
yours  there.  Better  send  her  in,  Wadley.  I'm 
loaded  with  straight  talk." 

The  girl  leaned  forward  in  the  chair.  She  looked 
at  him  with  a  flash  of  disdainful  eyes  in  which 
was  a  touch  of  feminine  ferocity.  But  she  let  her 
father  answer  the  man. 

"Go  on,"  said  the  old  Texan.  "Onload  what 
you've  got  to  say,  an'  then  pull  yore  freight." 

"Suits  me,  Clint.  I'm  here  to  make  a  bargain 
with  you.  Call  Ellison  off.  Make  him  let  me  an* 
my  friends  alone.  If  you  don't,  we're  goin'  to 
talk  —  about  yore  boy  Ford."  The  man's  upper 
lip  lifted  in  a  grin.  He  looked  first  at  the  father, 
then  at  the  daughter. 

There  was  a  tightening  of  the  soft,  round 
throat,  but  she  met  his  look  without  wincing.  The 
pallor  of  her  face  lent  accent  to  the  contemptu- 
ous loathing  of  the  slender  girl. 

"What  are  you  goin'  to  say  —  that  you  mur- 
dered him,  shot  him  down  from  behind?"  de- 
manded Wadley. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  207 

"That's  a  lie,  Clint.  You  know  who  killed  him 
—  an'  why  he  did  it.  Ford  could  n't  let  the  girls 
alone.  I  warned  him  as  a  friend,  but  he  was  hell- 
bent on  havin'  his  own  way." 

The  voice  of  the  cattleman  trembled.  "Some 
day --I'm  goin'  to  hunt  you  down  like  a  wolf 
for  what  you  did  to  my  boy." 

A  lump  jumped  to  Ramona's  throat.  She 
slipped  her  little  hand  into  the  big  one  of  her 
father,  and  with  it  went  all  her  sympathy  and 
all  her  love. 

"You're  'way  off,  Wadley.  The  boy  was  our 
friend.  Why  should  we  shoot  him?"  asked  the 
man  from  the  chaparral. 

"Because  he  interfered  with  you  when  you 
robbed  my  messenger." 

The  startled  eyes  of  the  outlaw  jumped  to  meet 
those  of  the  cattleman.  For  a  fraction  of  a  second 
he  was  caught  off  his  guard.  Then  the  film  of  wary 
craftiness  covered  them  again. 

"That's  plumb  foolishness,  Clint.  The  Mexi- 
can —  what 's  his  name?  —  killed  Ford  because 
he  was  jealous,  an'  if  it  had  n't  been  for  you,  he  'd 
'a'  paid  for  it  long  ago.  But  that  ain't  what  I  came 
to  talk  about.  I'm  here  to  tell  you  that  I've  got 
evidence  to  prove  that  Ford  was  a  rustler  an'  a 
hold-up.  If  it  comes  to  a  show-down,  we  're  goin' 
to  tell  what  we  know.  Mebbe  you  want  folks  to 
know  what  kind  of  a  brother  yore  girl  had.  That 's 
up  to  you." 


£08  Oh,  You  Tex! 

Wadley  exploded  in  a  sudden  fury  of  passion. 
"I'll  make  no  bargain  with  the  murderer  of  my 
boy.  Get  out  of  here,  you  damned  yellow  wolf.  I 
don't  want  any  truck  with  you  at  all  till  I  get  a 
chance  to  stomp  you  down  like  I  would  a  rattler." 

The  bad-man  bared  his  fangs.  For  one  moment 
of  horror  Ramona  thought  he  was  going  to  strike 
like  the  reptile  to  which  her  father  had  compared 
him.  He  glared  at  the  cattleman,  the  impulse 
strong  in  him  to  kill  and  be  done  with  it.  But  the 
other  side  of  him  —  the  caution  that  had  made 
it  possible  for  him  to  survive  so  long  in  a  world 
of  violent  men  —  held  his  hand  until  the  blood- 
lust  passed  from  his  brain. 

"You've  said  a-plenty,"  he  snarled  thickly. 
"Me,  I've  made  my  last  offer  to  you.  It's  war 
between  me  'n'  you  from  now  on." 

He  turned  away  and  went  slouching  down  the 
path  to  the  road. 

The  two  on  the  porch  watched  him  out  of  sight. 
The  girl  had  slipped  inside  her  father's  arm  and 
was  sobbing  softly  on  his  shoulder. 

"There,  honeybug,  now  don't  you  —  don't 
you,"  Clint  comforted.  "He  cayn't  do  us  any 
harm.  Ellison's  hot  on  his  trail.  I'll  give  him  six 
months,  an'  then  he's  through.  Don't  you  fret, 
sweetheart.  Daddy  will  look  out  for  you  all  right." 

"I  —  I  was  n't  thinking  about  me,"  she  whis- 
pered. 

Both  of  them  were  thinking  of  the  dead  boy 


Oh,  You  Tex!  209 

and  the  threat  to  blacken  his  memory,  but  neither 
of  them  confessed  it  to  the  other.  Wadley  cast 
about  for  something  to  divert  her  mind  and  found 
it  in  an  unanswered  question  of  his  own. 

'You  was  goin'  to  tell  me  how  come  you  to 
know  what  he  wanted  to  talk  with  me  about,"  the 
father  reminded  her. 

'You  remember  that  day  when  Arthur  Ridley 
brought  me  home?  " 

He  nodded  assent. 

"One  of  the  Dinsmore  gang  —  the  one  they 
call  Steve  Gurley  —  met  me  on  the  street.  He 
was  drunk,  an'  he  stopped  me  to  tell  me  about  — 
Ford.  I  tried  to  pass,  an'  he  would  n't  let  me.  He 
frightened  me.  Then  Arthur  an'  Mr.  Roberts 
came  round  the  corner.  Arthur  came  home  with 
me,  an'  —  you  know  what  happened  in  front  of 
McGuffey's  store." 

The  face  of  the  girl  had  flushed  a  sudden  scar- 
let. Her  father  stared  at  her  in  an  amazement  that 
gave  way  to  understanding.  Through  his  veins 
there  crashed  a  wave  of  emotion.  If  he  had  held 
any  secret  grudge  against  Tex  Roberts,  it  van- 
ished forever  that  moment.  This  was  the  kind  of 
son  he  would  have  liked  to  have  himself. 

"By  ginger,  that  was  what  he  beat  Gurley  up 
for!  Nobody  knows  why,  an'  Roberts  kept  the 
real  reason  under  his  hat.  He 's  a  prince,  Jack 
Roberts  is.  I  did  that  boy  a  wrong,  'Mona,  an' 
guessed  it  all  the  time,  just  because  he  had  a 


210  Oh,  You  Tex! 

mix-up  with  Ford.  He  was  n't  to  blame  for  that, 
anyhow,  I've  been  told." 

Ramona  felt  herself  unaccountably  trembling. 
There  was  a  queer  little  lump  in  her  throat,  but 
she  knew  it  was  born  of  gladness. 

"He's  been  good  to  me,"  she  said,  and  told 
of  the  experience  with  the  traveling  salesman  on 
the  stage. 

Clint  Wadley  laughed.  "I  never  saw  that  boy's 
beat.  He 's  got  everything  a  fellow  needs  to  win. 
I  can  tell  you  one  thing;  he's  goin'  to  get  a  chance 
to  run  the  A  T  O  for  me  before  he 's  forty-eight 
hours  older.  He  '11  be  a  good  buy,  no  matter  what 
salary  he  sticks  me  for." 

'Mona  became  aware  that  she  was  going  to 
break  down  —  and  "make  a  little  fool  of  herself," 
as  she  would  have  put  it. 

"I  forgot  to  water  my  canary,"  she  announced 
abruptly. 

The  girl  jumped  up,  ran  into  the  house  and  to 
her  room.  But  if  the  canary  was  suffering  from 
thirst,  it  remained  neglected.  Ramona's  telltale 
face  was  buried  in  a  pillow.  She  was  not  quite 
ready  yet  to  look  into  her  own  eyes  and  read  the 
message  they  told. 


CHAPTER  XXVIH 

ON  A  COLD  TRAIL 

"  DOG  it,  Jack,  we  got  to  go  after  the  Dins- 
mores,"  said  Ellison,  pounding  the  table  with  his 
fist.  "I've  just  had  a  letter  from  the  old  man 
wantin'  to  know  why  we  don't  get  results.  It 's 
not  the  Ranger  policy  to  wait  for  outlaws  to  come 
to  us.  We  go  after  'em." 

Tex  smiled  cheerfully.  "Suits  me  fine.  What  are 
your  instructions,  Captain?  Want  me  to  arrest 
Homer  Dinsmore  again?" 

"What  would  I  do  with  him  if  you  got  him?" 
snapped  the  old-timer. 

:tYou  could  turn  him  loose  again,"  suggested 
Roberts,  not  entirely  without  sarcasm. 

"If  you  boys  were  worth  the  powder  to  blow 
you-all  up  — !"  exploded  the  veteran. 

"  Instead  of  bein'  a  jackpot  bunch  of  triflin5 
no-account  scalawags,"  murmured  Jack. 

" —  You'd  hustle  out  an'  get  evidence  against 


'em." 


"Sounds  reasonable."  The  Ranger  lifted  his 
heels  to  the  seat  of  a  second  chair  and  rolled  him 
a  cigarette. 

"You'd  find  out  where  they're  hidin'  the  cat- 
tle they  rustle." 

"Are  you  givin'  me  an  assignment,  Captain?" 


Oh,  You  Tex! 

"You  done  said  it,  son.  There's  a  bunch  of 
rustled  stock  up  in  the  rocks  somewheres.  You 
know  it.  Question  is,  can  you  find  the  cache?  " 

"I  can  try." 

"Was  n't  it  you  told  me  once  about  bumpin' 
into  a  rustler  doin'  business  whilst  you  was 
ridin' the  line?" 

"At  the  mouth  of  Box  Canon  —  yes." 

"Well,  wha  's  the  matter  with  you  scoutin'  up 
Box  Canon  an'  seein'  what  you  find?" 

"They're  roostin9  up  there  somewheres.  I'll 
bet  a  hat  on  that." 

"How  many  boys  you  want  with  you?" 

Jack  considered.  "One.  I'll  take  Ridley  if  you 
don't  mind." 

"He's  a  tenderfoot,"  suggested  Ellison  doubt- 
fully. "Won't  be  of  any  help  to  you  a-tall  in  cut- 
ting sign.  If  you  leave  him  he 's  liable  to  get  lost. 
Better  take  Moser,  had  n't  you?" 

"Rather  have  Ridley.  He  doesn't  claim  to 
know  it  all.  Besides,  we've  got  to  break  him  in 
sometime." 

"  Suits  me  if  he  does  you.  It 's  yore  party." 

"  We'll  start  in  the  mo'nin'." 

"The  sooner  the  quicker,"  agreed  the  Cap- 
tain. "I  want  the  old  man  to  know  we're  not 
spendin'  our  time  settin'  around  a  office.  He's 
got  no  call  to  crawl  my  hump  when  you  boys 
are  doin'  the  best  you  can.  Well,  go  to  it,  son. 
See  if  you-all  can  get  evidence  that  will  stand 


Oh,  You  Tex!  213 

up  so's  we  can  collect  that  bunch  of  hawss- 
thieves." 

Before  daybreak  the  two  Rangers  were  on 
their  way.  They  drove  a  pack-horse,  their  sup- 
plies loaded  on  a  sawbuck  saddle  with  kyacks. 
Jack  had  been  brought  up  in  the  Panhandle.  He 
knew  this  country  as  a  seventh-grade  teacher 
does  her  geography.  Therefore  he  cut  across  the 
desert  to  the  cap-rock,  thence  to  Dry  Creek,  and 
so  by  sunset  to  Box  Canon.  At  the  mouth  of 
the  gulch  they  slept  under  the  stars.  As  soon  as 
they  had  cooked  their  coffee  and  bacon  Roberts 
stamped  out  the  fire. 

"We  don't  want  to  advertise  we're  here.  I'm 
some  particular  about  my  health.  I'd  hate  to 
get  dry-gulched *  on  this  job,"  said  Jack. 

"Would  the  Dinsmores  shoot  us  if  they  found 
us?"  asked  Ridley,  searching  with  his  head  for 
the  softest  spot  in  his  saddle  for  a  pillow. 

"Would  a  calf  milk  its  mother?  They're  sore 
as  a  toad  at  me,  an'  I  expect  that  goes  for  any 
other  Ranger  too.  Homer  might  give  us  an  even 
break  because  we  stayed  with  him  on  the  island, 
but  I  'd  hate  to  bet  my  head  on  that." 

"If  we  get  any  evidence  against  them  they 
can't  afford  to  let  us  go,"  agreed  Arthur. 

"An'  if  they  jump  us  up,  how 're  they  goin'  to 

1  A  man  is  said  to  be  "dry-gulched"  when  he  mysteriously 
disappears,  —  killed  by  his  enemies  and  buried  under  a  pile  of 
rocks. 


214  Oh,  You  Tex! 

know  how  much  we've  seen?  There's  one  safe 
way,  an'  they  would  ce'tainly  take  it." 
"Dead  men  tell  no  tales,  it 's  said." 
"Some  of  'em  do  an'  some  don't.  I  never  naet 
up  with  a  proverb  yet  that  was  n't  'way  off  about 
half  the  time.  For  instance,  that  one  you  quoted. 
Rutherford  Wadley's  body  told  me  considerable. 
It  said  that  he'd  been  killed  on  the  bluff  above 
an'  flung  down;  that  he'd  been  shot  by  a  rifle  in 
the  hands  of  a  man  standin'  about  a  hundred  an* 
fifty  yards  away;  that  he'd  been  taken  by  sur- 
prise an'  probably  robbed." 

"It  would  n't  have  told  me  all  that." 
"Not  till  you  learn  to  read  sign  closer  than 
you  do.  An  outdoor  education  is  like  a  school- 
book  one.  You  can't  learn  it  in  a  day  or  a  week 
or  a  year." 

"You're  no  Methuselah.  There 's  still  hope  for 


me." 


"Lots  o'  hope.  It's  mostly  keepin'  yore  eyes 
open  an'  yore  brain  workin'.  I  'm  still  only  hi  the 
ABC  class,  but  a  fellow  learns  somethin'  every 
day  if  he 's  that  kind." 

"If  it's  a  matter  of  brains,  why  do  Indians 
make  the  best  trailers?  You  would  n't  say  their 
brains  are  as  good  as  a  white  man's,  would 
you?" 

"No;  an'  I'd  say  there's  nothin'  on  earth  an 
Indian  can  do  as  well  as  a  white  man,  given  the 
same  chance  to  learn  it.  Indians  know  the  out- 


Oh,  You  Tex!  215 

doors  because  they  have  to  know  it  to  live.  The 
desert 's  no  prodigal  mother.  Her  sons  have  to 
rustle  right  smart  to  keep  their  tummies  satisfied. 
If  the  Taches  and  the  Kiowas  did  n't  know  how 
to  cut  sign  an'  read  it,  how  to  hunt  an'  fish  an' 
follow  a  trail,  they  'd  all  be  in  their  happy  huntin' 
grounds  long  ago.  They're  what  old  Nature  has 
made  'em.  But  I'll  tell  you  this.  When  a  white 
man  gives  his  mind  to  it  he  understands  the  life 
of  the  plains  better  than  any  Indian  does.  His 
brains  are  better,  an'  he  goes  back  an'  looks  for 
causes.  The  best  trailers  in  the  world  are  whites, 
not  redskinso" 

"I  did  n't  know  that,"  Arthur  said. 

"Ask  any  old-timer  if  it  ain't  so." 

They  were  eating  breakfast  when  the  light  on 
the  horizon  announced  a  new  day  on  the  way. 
Already  this  light  was  saturating  the  atmosphere 
and  dissolving  shadows.  The  vegetation  of  the 
plains,  the  wave  rolls  of  the  land,  the  distant 
horizon  line,  became  more  distinct.  By  the  time 
the  sun  pushed  into  sight  the  Rangers  were  in  the 
saddle. 

Roberts  led  through  the  polecat  brush  to  the 
summit  of  a  little  mesa  which  overlooked  the 
gulch.  Along  the  edge  of  the  ravine  he  rode,  pre- 
ferring the  bluff  to  the  sandy  wash  below  be- 
cause the  ground  was  less  likely  to  tell  the  Dins- 
mores  a  story  of  two  travelers  riding  up  Box 
Canon.  At  the  head  of  the  gorge  a  faint  trail 


Oh,  You  Tex! 

dipped  to  the  left.  Painted  on  a  rock  was  a  sign 
that  Jack  had  seen  before. 

THIS  IS  PETE  DINSMORE'S  ROAD  — 
TAKE  ANOTHER. 

He  grinned  reminiscently.  "I  did  last  time.  I 
took  the  back  trail  under  orders." 

"Whose  orders?"  asked  Ridley. 

"Pete's,  I  reckon." 

"If  there's  a  story  goes  with  that  grin — " 
suggested  Arthur. 

"No  story  a-tall.  I  caught  a  fellow  brandin*  a 
calf  below  the  canon.  He  waved  me  around. 
Some  curious  to  see  who  the  guy  was  that  did  n't 
want  to  say  'How?'  to  me,  I  followed  him  into 
Box." 

That  seemed  to  be  the  end  of  the  yarn.  At  any 
rate,  Jack  stopped. 

"Well,  did  you  find  out  who  he  was?" 

"No,  but  I  found  this  sign,  an'  above  it  a  rifle 
slantin'  down  at  me,  an'  back  of  the  rifle  a  masked 
face.  The  fellow  that  owned  the  face  advised  me 
about  my  health." 

"What  about  it?" 

"Why,  that  this  rough  country  was  n't  suited 
to  my  disposition,  temperament,  an'  general 
proclivities.  So  I  p'inted  back  to  where  I  had 
come  from." 

"And  you  never  satisfied  your  curiosity  about 
who  the  rustler  was?  " 


Oh,  You  Tex!  217 

"Did  n't  I?"  drawled  Jack. 

"Did  you?" 

"Mebbe  I  did.  I'm  not  tellin'  that  yarn  — 
not  to-day." 

The  country  was  rougher  and  hillier.  The  trail 
they  had  been  following  died  away  in  the  hills, 
but  they  crossed  and  recrossed  others,  made  by 
buffaloes,  antelopes,  and  coyotes  driven  by  the 
spur  of  their  needs  in  the  years  that  had  passed. 
Countless  generations  of  desert  life  had  come  and 
gone  before  even  the  Indians  drifted  in  to  live 
on  the  buffalo. 

"Why  is  it  that  there  's  more  warfare  on  the 
desert  than  there  is  back  East?  The  cactus  has 
spines.  The  rattlesnake,  the  centipede,  the  Gila 
monster,  the  tarantula,  all  carry  poison.  Even 
the  toad  has  a  horn.  Everywhere  it  is  a  fight  to 
survive.  The  vegetation,  as  well  as  the  animal 
life,  fights  all  the  time  against  drought.  It's  a 
regular  hell  on  earth,"  Arthur  concluded. 

Jack  eased  himself  in  the  saddle.  "Looks  kinda 
like  Nature  made  the  desert  an'  grinned  at  life, 
much  as  to  say,  'I  defy  you  to  live  there,'  don't 
it?  Sure  there's  warfare,  but  I  reckon  there's 
always  war  between  different  forms  of  life.  If 
there  was  n't,  the  world  would  be  rank  with  all 
sorts  of  things  crowdin'  each  other.  The  war 
would  have  to  come  then  after  all.  Me,  I  like  it. 
I  like  the  way  life  came  back  with  an  answer  to 
the  challenge.  It  equipped  itself  with  spines  an* 


218  Oh,  You  Tex! 

stings  an'  horns  an'  tough  hides  because  it  had  to 
have  'em.  It  developed  pores  an'  stomachs  that 
could  get  along  without  much  water.  Who  wants 
to  live  in  a  land  where  you  don't  have  to  rustle 
for  alivin'?" 

"You  belong  to  the  West.  You're  of  it,"  Rid- 
ley said.  "If  you 'd  seen  the  fine  grasslands  of  the 
East,  the  beautiful,  well-kept  farms  and  the  fat 
stock,  you'd  understand  what  I  mean.  A  fellow 
gets  homesick  for  them." 

Roberts  nodded.  "I've  seen  'em  an'  I  under- 
stand. Oncet  I  went  back  East  an'  spent  three 
months  there.  I  could  n't  stand  it.  I  got  sick  for 
the  whinin'  of  a  rope,  wanted  to  hump  over  the 
hills  after  cows'  tails.  The  nice  little  farms  an* 
the  nice  little  people  with  their  nice  little  ways 
kinda  cramped  me.  I  reckon  in  this  ol'  world  it 's 
every  one  to  his  own  taste."  His  eye  swept  the 
landscape.  "Looks  like  there 's  water  down  there. 
If  so,  we  '11  fall  off  for  a  spell  an'  rest  the  hawsses." 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

BURNT  BRANDS 

AT  the  end  of  the  third  day  of  scouting  Jack 
came  back  to  camp  late,  but  jubilant. 

"I've  found  what  we're  lookin'  for,  Art.  I 
drifted  across  a  ridge  an'  looked  down  into  a 
draw  this  evenin'.  A  fellow  was  ridin'  herd  on 
a  bunch  of  cows.  They  looked  to  me  like  a 
jackpot  lot,  but  I  could  n't  be  sure  at  that  dis- 
tance. I'm  gonna  find  out  what  brands  they 
carry." 

"How?" 

"The  only  way  I  know  is  to  get  close  enough 
to  see." 

"Can  you  do  that  without  being  noticed?" 

"Mebbe  I  can.  The  fellow  watchin'  the  herd 
ain't  expectin'  visitors.  Probably  he  loafs  on 
the  job  some  of  the  time.  I'm  gamblin'  he 
does." 

Roberts  unloaded  from  the  saddle  the  hind- 
quarters of  a  black-tail  deer  he  had  shot  just 
before  sunset.  He  cut  off  a  couple  of  steaks  for 
supper  and  Ridley  raked  together  the  coals  of  the 
fire. 

"Throw  these  into  a  fry-pan,  Art,  while  I 
picket  old  Ten-Penny,"  said  Jack.  "I'm  sure 
hungry  enough  to  eat  a  mail  sack.  I  lay  up  there 


220  Oh,  You  Tex! 

in  the  brush  'most  two  hours  an5  that  fellow's 
cookin'  drifted  to  me  till  I  was  about  ready  to 
march  down  an'  hold  him  up  for  it." 

"  What 's  the  programme?  "  asked  Arthur  later, 
as  they  lay  on  their  tarpaulins  smoking  post- 
prandial cigarettes. 

"I'll  watch  for  a  chance,  then  slip  down  an* 
see  what 's  what.  I  want  to  know  who  the  man 
is  an'  what  brand  the  stock  are  carry  in'.  That 's 
all.  If  it  works  out  right  mebbe  we'll  gather  in 
the  man  an'  drive  the  herd  back  to  town." 

"Then  I  go  along,  do  I?" 

"Yes,  but  probably  you  stay  back  in  the  brush 
till  I  signal  for  you  to  come  down.  We  '11  see  how 
the  thing  works  out." 

Ridley  lay  awake  for  hours  beneath  a  million 
stars,  unable  to  get  his  alert  nerves  quiet  enough 
for  sleep.  The  crisis  of  his  adventure  was  near 
and  his  active  imagination  was  already  drama- 
tizing it  vividly.  He  envied  his  friend,  who  had 
dropped  into  restful  slumber  the  moment  his 
head  touched  the  saddle.  He  knew  that  Roberts 
was  not  insensitive.  He,  too,  had  a  lively  fancy, 
but  it  was  relegated  to  the  place  of  servant  rather 
than  master. 

In  the  small  hours  Arthur  fell  into  troubled 
sleep  and  before  his  eyes  were  fully  shut  —  as  it 
seemed  to  the  drowsy  man  —  he  was  roused  by 
his  companion  pulling  the  blankets  from  under 
him.  Ridley  sat  up.  The  soft  sounds  of  the  desert 


Oh,  You  Tex! 

night  had  died  away,  the  less  subdued  ones  of 
day  showed  that  another  life  was  astir. 

4 'Time  to  get  up,  Sleepy  Haid.  Breakfast  is 
ready.  Come  an'  get  it,"  called  Jack. 

They  packed  their  supplies  on  the  extra  horse 
and  saddled  their  mounts.  The  day  was  still 
young  when  they  struck  across  the  plains  to  the 
north.  The  way  they  took  was  a  circuitous  one, 
for  Roberts  was  following  the  draws  and  valleys 
as  far  as  possible  in  order  to  escape  observation. 

The  sun  was  high  in  the  heavens  when  he  drew 
up  in  the  rim-rock. 

"Well  'light  here  an'  picket  the  broncs,"  he 
said. 

This  done,  both  men  examined  then*  rifles  and 
revolvers  carefully  to  guard  against  any  hitch  in 
the  mechanism.  Then,  still  following  the  low  coun- 
try, they  worked  forward  cautiously  for  another 
half-mile. 

Jack  fell  back  to  give  the  other  Ranger  final 
instructions.  "There's  a  clump  of  cactus  on  the 
summit.  We'll  lie  back  o' there.  You  stay  right 
there  when  I  go  forward.  If  I  get  the  breaks  I  '11 
wave  you  on  later.  If  I  don't  get  'em  you  may 
have  to  come  a-shootin'  to  help  me." 

They  crept  up  an  incline,  wriggling  forward  on 
their  stomachs  the  last  few  yards  to  the  shelter  of 
the  cactus  on  the  crest.  Before  them  lay  a  little 
valley.  On  the  cactus-covered  slope  opposite  a 
herd  of  cattle  was  grazing.  No  guard  was  in  sight. 


Oh,  You  Tex! 

For  two  hours  they  lay  there  silently,  watching 
intently. 

"I  '11  slip  down  right  now  an'  take  a  look  at  the 
brands,"  said  Jack. 

"Had  n't  I  better  come  too?" 

"You  stick  right  where  you're  at,  Art.  I  might 
need  a  friend  under  cover  to  do  some  fancy 
shootin'  for  me  if  the  Dinsmores  arrived  unex- 
pected." 

There  was  no  cover  on  the  near  slope.  Jack 
m^e  no  attempt  to  conceal  himself,  but  strode 
swiftly  down  into  the  valley.  Goosequills  ran  up 
and  down  his  spine,  for  he  did  not  know  at  what 
moment  a  bullet  might  come  singing  down  at 
him. 

He  reached  the  outgrazers  of  the  herd  and 
identified  the  A  T  O  brand  on  half  a  dozen  cows. 
The  brand  had  been  changed  by  an  adroit  touch 
or  two  of  a  running-iron.  Probably  the  cattle 
were  being  held  here  until  the  hair  had  grown 
again  enough  to  conceal  the  fact  of  a  recent  burn. 

The  Ranger  circled  the  herd,  moving  toward 
the  brow  of  the  land  swell.  He  made  the  most  of 
the  cactus,  but  there  was  an  emptiness  about  the 
pit  of  his  stomach.  If  some  one  happened  to  be 
watching  him,  a  single  shot  would  make  an  end  of 
Tex  Roberts.  His  scalp  prickled  and  drew  tight, 
as  though  some  unseen  hand  were  dragging  at  it. 

From  one  clump  to  another  he  slipped,  every 
sense  keyed  to  alertness.  The  rifle  in  his  hand* 


Oh,  You  Tex!  MS 

resting  easily  against  the  right  hip,  could  be  lifted 
instantly. 

At  the  top  of  the  rise  the  Ranger  waited  behind 
a  prickly  pear  to  search  the  landscape.  It  rolled 
away  in  long  low  waves  to  the  horizon.  A  mile  or 
more  away,  to  the  left,  a  faint,  thin  film  of  smoke 
hung  lazily  in  the  air.  This  meant  a  camp.  The 
rustlers,  to  play  safe,  had  located  it  not  too  near 
the  grazing  herd.  It  was  a  place,  no  doubt,  where 
water  was  handy  and  from  which  the  outlaws, 
if  caught  by  surprise,  could  make  a  safe  and  swift 
retreat  to  the  rim-rock. 

Again,  in  a  wide  circuit  in  order  not  to  meet 
anybody  who  might  be  riding  from  the  camp  to 
the  herd,  the  Ranger  moved  forward  warily.  The 
smoke  trickle  was  his  guide  and  his  destination. 

He  took  his  time.  He  was  in  no  hurry.  Speed 
was  the  least  part  of  his  programme.  Far  more 
important  was  secrecy.  With  that  patience  which 
the  frontiersman  has  learned  from  the  Indian 
he  followed  a  tortuous  course  through  the  brush. 

His  trained  eye  told  him  the  best  direction  for 
approach,  the  side  from  which  he  could  get  nearest 
to  the  camp  with  the  least  risk  of  being  seen. 
Through  the  curly  mesquite  he  crawled,  hiding  be- 
hind the  short  bushlike  clumps  until  he  had  chosen 
the  next  line  of  advance.  At  last,  screened  by  a 
Spanish  bayonet,  he  commanded  a  view  of  the 
camp. 

So  far  as  he  could  tell  it  was  deserted.  Camp 


224  Oh,  You  Tex! 

equipment  lay  scattered  about.  A  frying-pan,  a 
coffee-pot,  tin  cups  and  plates,  had  been  dropped 
here  and  there.  The  coals  of  the  fire  still  smoul- 
dered and  gave  forth  a  wisp  of  smoke.  Fifty 
yards  away  a  horse  was  picketed.  It  was  an  easy 
guess  that  the  campers  had  not  gone  permanently, 
but  were  away  from  home  for  a  few  hours. 

Where  were  they?  Recalling  the  horses  he  and 
his  companion  had  left  picketed  not  far  away, 
Jack  felt  a  momentary  qualm.  If  the  Dinsmores 
should  happen  to  stumble  on  them  the  situation 
would  be  an  awkward  one.  The  hunters  would  be- 
come the  hunted.  Deprived  of  their  horses  and 
supplies,  the  Rangers  would  be  at  a  decided  dis- 
advantage. The  only  option  left  them  would  be 
to  come  to  close  quarters  with  the  rustlers  or 
to  limp  back  home  discouraged  and  discredited. 
Roberts  preferred  not  to  have  his  hand  forced. 
He  wanted  to  wait  on  opportunity  and  see  what 
it  brought  him. 

He  moved  forward  to  the  camp  and  made  a 
swift  examination  of  it.  Several  men  had  slept 
here  last  night  and  four  had  eaten  breakfast  a 
few  hours  since.  He  could  find  no  extra  supplies, 
which  confirmed  his  opinion  that  this  was  only  a 
temporary  camp  of  a  night  or  two.  A  heavy  buzz- 
ing of  flies  in  a  buffalo  wallow  not  far  away  drew 
his  steps.  The  swarm  covered  a  saddle  of  deer 
from  which  enough  for  a  meal  had  been  slashed 
before  it  was  thrown  away. 


Oh,  You  Tex! 

The  Ranger  moved  nothing.  He  left  no  signs 
other  than  his  tracks  to  show  that  a  stranger  had 
been  at  the  camp.  As  soon  as  he  had  inspected 
it  he  withdrew. 

He  had  decided  that  the  first  thing  to  do  was  to 
join  Ridley,  make  sure  of  their  horses,  and  leave 
his  companion  in  charge  of  them.  Afterward  he 
could  return  alone  and  watch  the  rustlers. 

Since  he  knew  that  the  rustlers  were  away  from 
their  camp,  the  Ranger  did  not  feel  the  need  of 
taking  such  elaborate  precautions  against  dis- 
covery during  the  return  journey.  He  made  a 
wide  circuit,  but  his  long,  easy  stride  carried  him 
swiftly  over  the  ground.  Swinging  round  the  val- 
ley in  which  the  herd  was  grazing,  he  came  up 
from  the  rear  to  the  brush-covered  summit  where 
he  had  left  Ridley. 

Arthur  had  gone.  He  was  nowhere  in  sight. 
Nor  was  there  any  sign  to  show  where  he  had 
gone. 

It  was  possible  that  some  alarm  might  have 
sent  him  back  to  look  after  the  horses.  Jack  ran 
down  the  incline  to  the  little  draw  where  the 
animals  had  been  picketed.  The  broncos  were  safe, 
but  Ridley  was  not  with  them. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

ROGUES  DISAGREE 

WITH  a  heart  that  pounded  queerly  Arthur 
watched  his  friend  cross  the  valley  and  work  his 
way  to  the  ridge  beyond.  Even  after  Jack  had 
disappeared,  he  waited,  nerves  jumpy,  for  the 
crack  of  a  rifle  to  carry  news  of  death  in  the  mes- 
quite. 

No  tidings  of  tragedy  came.  The  minutes  ful- 
filled the  hour.  The  many  small  sounds  of  the 
desert  were  shattered  by  no  report.  At  last, 
drowsing  in  the  warmth  of  the  sunlit  land,  the 
Ranger's  eyes  closed,  opened,  and  shut  again. 
He  nodded,  fell  asleep. 

When  he  awakened  it  was  with  a  shock  of 
dread.  His  heart  died.  Four  men  were  watching 
him.  Two  of  them  had  him  covered  with  revol- 
vers. A  third  was  just  removing  noiselessly  his 
rifle  and  six-shooter  from  reach  of  his  hand. 

He  jumped  to  his  feet.  The  consternation  in  his 
eyes  showed  how  completely  he  had  been  caught 
napping. 

One  of  the  men  —  a  long,  lank,  cross-eyed  fel- 
low —  laughed  mockingly,  and  the  sound  of  his 
mirth  was  evil. 

"Whatta  you  doin'  here?"  demanded  one 
whom  he  recognized  as  Pete  Dinsmore. 


Oh,  You  Tex! 

For  a  moment  the  Ranger's  mind  was  a  blank. 
He  could  not  make  it  serve  his  needs.  Words  were 
out  of  reach  of  his  tongue.  Then,  "I'm  lost,"  he 
stammered. 

"Are  you  alone?" 

"Yes."  Out  of  his  confusion  one  idea  stood  up 
imperatively.  He  must  not  betray  Jack. 

"Where's  yore  hawss?" 

"It  —  it  got  away  from  me." 

"When?" 

"Last  night."  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  could 
keep  just  one  jump  ahead  of  this  dominant  man's 
menacing  questions. 

"Howcomethat?" 

"I  shot  a  prairie-hen,  and  when  I  got  down  to 
get  it  —  I  don't  know  —  my  horse  got  frightened 
and  jerked  away.  I  tried  to  catch  it.  The  brute 
would  n't  let  me.  Then  night  came." 

"What  were  you  doin'  so  far  from  town?"  cut 
in  one  of  the  two  who  were  covering  him.  He  was 
a  short,  heavy-set  man. 

"That's  right,  Dave.  Looks  funny  to  me." 
Gurley  seemed  fairly  to  ooze  malice.  "Just  hap- 
pened to  drift  here  to  this  herd,  I  reckon.  It  sure 
was  yore  unlucky  day." 

Arthur  looked  from  one  to  another  despair- 
ingly. He  found  no  hope  anywhere,  not  even  in 
the  expressionless  face  of  Homer  Dinsmore,  who 
as  yet  had  not  spoken  a  word.  There  came  over 
the  boy  what  he  afterward  described  as  a  "gone  " 


228  Oh,  You  Texl 

feeling.  It  was  the  sensation,  intensified 
times,  felt  when  an  elevator  drops  from  under 
one  in  swift  descent. 

"I  —  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  he  fal- 
tered. 

"You  will,"  said  Gurley  brutally. 

"Been  across  the  valley  to  the  herd  yet?" 
asked  Overstreet,  elaborately  careless. 

Here  was  one  question  Ridley  could  answer 
with  the  truth.  He  spoke  swiftly,  eagerly.  "No," 

His  questioner  exchanged  looks  with  Homer 
Dinsmore  and  laughed.  The  Ranger  had  be- 
trayed himself.  He  had  been  so  quick  to  deny 
that  he  had  been  near  the  herd  that  his  anxiety 
gave  him  away.  They  knew  he  suspected  them 
of  having  rustled  the  stock  grazing  on  the  slope. 
Very  likely  he  had  already  verified  his  doubts  as 
to  burnt  brands. 

Homer  Dinsmore  spoke  ror  the  tirst  time.  His 
voice  was  harsh.  "Why  don't  you  tell  the  truth? 
You  came  to  get  evidence  against  us." 

"Evidence?"  repeated  Arthur  dully. 

"To  prove  we're  rustlin'  stock.  You  know 
damn  well." 

"Why,  I  — I—" 

"And  you  didn't  come  alone.  Ellison  never 
sent  a  tenderfoot  like  you  out  except  with  others. 
Where  are  the  rest  of  yore  party?  Come  through." 

"I'm  alone."  Arthur  stuck  to  that  doggedly. 

W'I£  he's  got  a  bunch  of  Rangers  back  of  him 


Oh,  You  Tex!  229 

we  better  burn  the  wind  outa  here,"  suggested 
Gurley,  looking  around  uneasily. 

Overstreet  looked  at  him  with  scorn  and 
chewed  tobacco  imperturbably.  "Keep  yore  shirt 
on,  Steve.  Time  enough  to  holler  when  you're 
hurt." 

"I  have  n't  got  a  bunch  of  Rangers  with  me," 
cried  Ridley  desperately,  beads  of  sweat  on  his 
brow.  It  had  come  to  him  that  if  he  persuaded 
these  men  he  had  no  companions  with  him  he 
would  be  sealing  his  doom.  They  could  murder 
him  with  impunity.  But  he  could  not  betray 
Jack.  He  must  set  his  teeth  to  meet  the  worst 
before  he  did  that.  "I  tell  you  I'm  alone.  I  don't 
know  what  you  mean  about  the  cattle.  I  have  n't 
been  across  the  valley.  I  came  here,  and  I  had  n't 
slept  all  night.  So  I  was  all  worn  out.  And  some- 
how I  fell  asleep." 

"All  alone,  eh?"  Pete  Dinsmore  murmured  it 
suavely.  His  crafty  mind  was  weighing  the  differ- 
ence this  made  in  the  problem  before  the  out- 
laws —  the  question  as  to  what  to  do  with  this 
man.  They  could  not  let  him  go  back  with  his 
evidence.  It  would  not  be  safe  to  kill  him  if  he 
had  merely  strayed  from  a  band  of  Rangers.  But 
assuming  he  told  the  truth,  that  he  had  no  com- 
panions, then  there  was  a  very  easy  and  simple 
way  out  for  the  rustlers.  The  Ranger  could  not 
tell  what  he  knew  —  however  much  or  little  that 
might  be —  if  he  never  returned  to  town. 


230  Oh,  You  Tex! 

"I  keep  telling  you  that  I'm  alone,  that  I  got 
lost,"  Arthur  insisted.  "What  would  I  be  doing 
here  without  a  horse  if  I  had  friends?  " 

"Tha's  right/5  agreed  Gurley.  "I  reckon  he 
got  lost  like  he  said." 

He,  too,  by  the  same  process  of  reasoning  as 
Pete  Dinsmore,  had  come  to  a  similar  conclusion. 
He  reflected  craftily  that  Ridley  was  probably 
telling  the  truth.  Why  should  he  persist  in  the 
claim  that  he  was  alone  if  he  had  friends  in  the 
neighborhood,  since  to  persuade  his  captors  of 
tjiis  was  to  put  himself  wholly  in  their  power? 
3^*  You  're  easily  fooled,  Steve,"  sneered  Homer. 
"I've  camped  with  this  bird,  an' I  tell  you  he's 
got  a  passel  of  Rangers  with  him  somewheres. 
We're  standin'  here  jawin5  waitin'  for  them  to 
round  us  up,  I  reckon." 

Overstreet  looked  at  Homer.  His  eyebrows 
lifted  hi  a  slight  surprise.  He  and  the  younger 
Dinsmore  had  been  side  partners  for  years. 
Homer  was  a  cool  customer.  It  was  n't  like  him 
to  scare.  There  was  something  in  this  he  did  not 
understand.  Anyhow,  he  would  back  his  pal's  play 
till  he  found  out. 

"I  expect  you're  right.  We  can  easy  enough 
prove  it.  Let 's  light  out  for  the  cap-rock  an'  hole 
up  for  a  coupla  days.  Then  one  of  us  will  slip  out 
an'  see  if  the  herd 's  still  here  an'  no  Rangers  in 
sight.  We'll  keep  this  gent  a  prisoner  till  we 
kuow  where  we're  at?  How 's  that?  " 


Oh,  You  Tex!  231 

"  You  talk  like  we  was  the  United  States  Army, 
Dave,"  growled  Pete  Dinsmore.  "We  got  no  way 
to  take  care  o'  prisoners.  I'm  for  settlin'  this 
thing  right  here." 

The  outlaws  dtew  closer  together  and  farther 
from  Ridley.  He  was  unarmed  and  wholly  in  their 
power.  If  he  tried  to  run  he  could  not  get  twenty 
yards.  The  voices  of  the  men  fell. 

Arthur  began  to  tremble.  His  face  grew  gray, 
his  lips  bloodless.  On  the  issue  of  that  conference 
his  life  hung.  The  easiest  thing  to  do  would  be  to 
make  an  end  of  him  now.  Would  they  choose  that 
way  out  of  the  difficulty?  He  could  see  that  Gur- 
ley  had,  for  the  moment  at  least,  joined  forces 
with  Homer  and  Dave  Overstreet  against  Pete, 
but  he  could  hear  none  of  the  arguments. 

"You're  wrong,  Pete.  We're  playin'  safe. 
That 's  all.  My  notion  is  this  guy 's  tellin'  the 
truth.  There 's  only  one  thing  to  do.  I  don't 
reckon  any  of  us  want  him  to  go  back  to  town. 
But  if  we  do  anything  with  him  here,  the  Rangers 
are  liable  to  find  his  body.  Oncet  up  in  the  cap- 
rock  we  can  dry-gulch  him." 

The  older  J3insmore  gave  way  with  an  oath. 
"All  right.  Have  yore  own  way,  boys.  Majority 
rules.  We'll  postpone  this  discussion  till  later." 

Gurley  brought  the  horses.  Arthur  was 
mounted  behind  him,  his  feet  tied  beneath  the 
belly  of  the  horse.  The  rustlers  rode  in  pairs, 
Homer  Dinsmore  and  Overstreet  in  the  rear. 


Oh,  You  Tex! 

"What  makes  you  think  this  fellow  has  friends 
near,  Homer?  "  asked  his  companion. 

"He  does  n't  know  enough  to  ride  alone.  But 
I  don't  care  whether  he 's  alone  or  not.  I  'm  not 
goin'  to  have  the  boy  killed.  He  stood  by  me  on 
the  island  to  a  finish.  Of  course  that  would  n't 
go  with  Steve  an'  Pete,  so  I  put  it  on  the  other 
ground." 

"  Want  to  turn  him  loose,  do  you? " 

"I'd  swear  him  first  to  padlock  his  mouth. 
He  'd  do  it,  too,  if  he  said  so." 

"Some  risk  that,  old-timer." 

"I  got  to  do  it,  Dave.  Can't  throw  him  down, 
can  I?" 

"Don't  see  as  you  can.  Well,  make  yore  play 
when  you  get  ready.  I'll  shove  my  chips  hi  be- 
side yours.  I  never  yet  killed  a  man  except  in  a 
fight  an'  I  've  got  no  fancy  for  beginnin'  now." 

"Much  obliged,  Dave." 

"How  far  do  you  'low  to  go?  If  Pete  gets  ugly 
like  he  sometimes  does,  he'll  be  onreasonable." 

"I'll  manage  him.  If  he  does  get  set  there'll 
be  a  pair  of  us.  Mebbe  I  'm  just  about  as  stubborn 
as  he  is." 

"I  believe  you.  Well,  I'll  be  with  you  at  every 
jump  of  the  road,"  Overstreet  promised. 

The  discussion  renewed  itself  as  soon  as  the 
outlaws  had  hidden  themselves  in  a  pocket  of  the 
cap-rock.  Again  they  drew  apart  from  their  pris- 
oner and  talked  in  excited  but  reduced  voices. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  233 

"The  Rangers  have  got  no  evidence  we  col- 
lected this  fellow,"  argued  Gurley.  "Say  he 
disappears  off'n  the  earth.  Mebbe  he  died  of 
thirst  lost  on  the  plains.  Mebbe  a  buffalo  bull 
killed  him.  Mebbe—  " 

"  Mebbe  he  went  to  heaven  in  a  chariot  of  fire," 
drawled  Overstreet,  to  help  out  the  other's  im- 
agination. 

"The  point  is,  why  should  we  be  held  re- 
sponsible? Nobody  knows  we  were  within  fifty 
miles  of  him,  doggone  it." 

"That's  where  you're  wrong.  The  Rangers 
know  it.  They're  right  on  our  heels,  I  tell  you," 
differed  Homer  Dinsmore. 

"We'll  get  the  blame.  No  manner  o'  doubt 
about  that,"  said  Overstreet. 

"Say  we  do.  They  can't  prove  a  thing  —  not 
a  thing." 

"You  talk  plumb  foolish,  Steve.  Why  don't 
you  use  yore  brains?"  answered  Homer  im- 
patiently. "We  can  go  just  so  far.  If  we  over- 
step the  limit  this  country  will  get  too  hot  for  us. 
There'll  be  a  grand  round-up,  an'  we'd  get  ours 
without  any  judge  or  jury.  The  folks  of  this  coun- 
try are  law-abidin',  but  there 's  a  line  we  can't 


cross." 


" That's  all  right,"  agreed  Pete.  "But  there's 
somethin'  in  what  Steve  says.  If  this  tenderfoot 
wandered  off  an'  got  lost,  nobody 's  goin'  to  hold 
us  responsible  for  him." 


234  Oh,  You  Tex! 

"He  did  n't  no  such  thing  get  lost.  Listen.  Tex 
Roberts  was  with  him  the  day  Steve  —  fell  over 
the  box.  Tex  was  with  him  when  we  had  the 
rumpus  with  the  Kiowas  on  the  Canadian.  Those 
lads  hunt  together.  Is  it  likely  this  Ridley,  who 
don't  know  sic'  'em,  got  so  far  away  from  the 
beaten  trails  alone?  Not  in  a  thousand  years. 
There 's  a  bunch  of  Rangers  somewheres  near. 
We  got  to  play  our  hands  close,  Pete." 

"We're  millin'  around  in  circles,  Homer.  Why 
does  this  fellow  Ridley  claim  he's  alone?  He 
must  know  it's  up  to  him  to  persuade  us  his 
friends  are  about  two  jumps  behind  us." 

"One  guess  is  as  good  as  another.  Here's 
mine,"  said  Overstreet.  "He  wants  to  throw  us 
off  our  guard.  He's  hopin'  we'll  pull  some  fool 
break  an'  the  Rangers  will  make  a  gather  of  our 
whole  bunch." 

"Good  enough,"  said  Homer,  nodding  agree- 
ment. "Another  thing.  This  lad  Ridley's  not 
game.  But  he 's  a  long  way  from  bein'  yellow. 
He 's  not  gonna  queer  the  campaign  of  the  Ran- 
gers by  tellin'  what  he  knows." 

"Betcha  I  can  make  him  talk,"  boasted  Gur- 
ley.  "Put  a  coupla  sticks  between  the  roots  of 
his  fingers  an'  press  — " 

"Think  we're  a  bunch  of  Taches,  Steve?" 
demanded  Homer  roughly.  "Come  to  that,  I'll 
say  plain  that  I'm  no  murderer,  let  alone  tor- 
ture. I've  killed  when  I  had  to,  but  the  other 


Oh,  You  Tex!  235 

fellow  had  a  run  for  his  money.  If  I  beat  him  to 
the  draw  that  was  his  lookout.  He  had  no  holler 
eomin'.  But  this  kid  —  not  for  me." 

"Different  here/'  said  Pete  evenly.  "He  knew 
what  he  was  up  against  when  he  started.  If  it 
was  us  or  him  that  had  to  go,  I  would  n't  hes- 
itate a  minute.  Question  is,  what's  safest  for 
us?" 

"The  most  dangerous  thing  for  us  is  to  harm 
him.  Do  that,  an'  we  won't  last  a  month  in  this 
country." 

"What's  yore  idea,  then,  Homer?  We  can't 
hold  him  till  Christmas.  Soon  as  we  let  him  go, 
he'll  trot  back  an'  tell  all  he  knows,"  protested 
his  brother  irritably. 

"What  does  he  know?  Nothin'  except  that  we 
found  him  when  he  claimed  to  be  lost  an'  that 
we  looked  after  him  an'  showed  him  how  to  get 
home.  Even  if  he 's  seen  those  cattle  he  can't 
prove  we  burned  the  brands,  can  he?" 

"No-o." 

"In  a  day  or  two  we'll  take  the  trail.  I'll  put 
it  to  Ridley  that  we  have  n't  time  to  take  him 
back  to  town  an'  that  he'd  sure  get  lost  if  we 
turned  him  loose  here.  We'll  drop  him  some- 
wheres  on  the  trail  after  we've  crossed  the  line." 

"Fine  an'  dandy,"  jeered  Gurley.  "We'll  in- 
troduce him  to  the  herd  an'  take  him  along  so 's 
he'll  be  sure  we're  the  rustlers." 

They  wrangled  back  and  forth,  covering  the 


236  Oh,  You  Tex! 

same  ground  time  and  again.  At  last  they  agreed 
to  postpone  a  decision  till  next  day. 

Homer  reported  the  issue  of  their  debate,  col- 
ored to  suit  his  purpose,  to  the  white-faced  Ran- 
ger. "I  reckon  we'll  have  to  look  out  for  you, 
Ridley.  It  would  n't  do  to  turn  you  loose.  You'd 
get  lost  sure.  Mebbe  in  a  day  or  two  some  of  us 
will  be  driftin'  in  to  town  an'  can  take  you  along." 

"If  you'd  start  me  in  the  right  direction  I 
think  I  could  find  my  way  back,"  Arthur  said 
timidly. 

"No  chance,  young  fellow.  You'll  stay  right 
here  till  we  get  good  an'  ready  for  you  to  go. 
See?" 

The  Ranger  did  not  push  the  point.  He  knew 
very  well  it  would  not  be  of  the  least  use.  His 
fears  were  temporarily  allayed.  He  felt  sure  that 
Homer  Dinsmore  would  put  up  a  stiff  argument 
before  he  would  let  him  be  sacrificed. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

A  PAIR  OF  DEUCES 

FROM  the  lookout  point  among  the  rocks  where 
he  was  stationed  Overstreet  shouted  a  warning 
to  his  companions  below. 

"Fellow  with  a  white  flag  ridin'  in.  Looks  like 
he  might  be  a  Ranger." 

Pete  Dinsmore  dropped  a  coffee-pot  and  took 
three  strides  to  his  rifle.  His  brother  Homer 
and  Steve  Gurley  garnished  themselves  promptly 
with  weapons.  They  joined  the  lookout,  and  from 
the  big  rocks  could  see  without  being  seen. 

The  man  coming  to  their  hang-out  had  a 
handkerchief  or  a  flour  sack  tied  to  the  barrel  of 
his  rifle  and  was  holding  it  in  the  air.  He  jogged 
along  steadily  without  any  haste  and  without  any 
apparent  hesitation.  He  was  leading  a  saddled 
riderless  horse. 

A  rifle  cracked. 

Pete  Dinsmore  whirled  on  Gurley  angrily. 
"  What  you  do  that  for?  " 

Malice,  like  some  evil  creature,  writhed  in 
Gurley's  face.  "It's  that  fellow  Roberts.  We  got 
him  right  at  last.  Leggo  my  arm." 

"I'll  beat  yore  head  off  if  you  shoot  again. 
Lucky  for  you  you  missed.  Don't  you  see  he  comes 
here  as  a  messenger.  Ellison  musta  sent  him." 


238  Oh,  You  Tex! 

"I  don5  care  how  he  comes.  He'll  never  go 
away  except  feet  first."  The  man  who  had  been 
horsewhipped  by  the  Ranger  was  livid  with  rage. 

Dinsmore  swung  him  round  by  the  shoulder 
savagely.  "Who  elected  you  boss  of  this  outfit, 
Steve?  Don't  ride  on  the  rope  or  you'll  sure  git 
a  fall." 

The  eyes  of  Pete  were  blazing.  Gurley  gave 
way  sullenly. 

"Tha's  all  right.  I  ain't  aimin'  noways  to  cross 
you.  I  can  wait  to  git  this  fellow  if  you  say  so." 

The  Ranger  had  pulled  up  his  horse  and  was 
waving  the  improvised  flag.  Pete  gave  directions. 

"Homer,  you  an'  Dave  go  down  an'  find  out 
what  he  wants.  Don't  bring  him  in  unless  you 
blindfold  him  first.  We  don't  wanta  introduce 
him  to  the  place  so  as  he  can  walk  right  in  again 
any  time." 

The  two  men  named  walked  out  to  meet  the 
Ranger.  They  greeted  him  with  grim  little  nods, 
which  was  exactly  the  salutation  he  gave  them. 
The  hard  level  eyes  of  the  men  met  without  yield- 
ing an  eyebeat. 

"Don't  you  know  a  flag  of  truce  when  you  see 
it,  Dinsmore?"  demanded  Roberts. 

"Excuse  that  shot,  Mr.  Ranger,"  said  Homer 
evenly.  "It  was  a  mistake." 

"Gurley  does  make  'em,"  returned  Jack, 
guessing  shrewdly.  "Some  day  he'll  make  one 
too  many." 


Oh,  You  Tex!  239 

"I  take  it  you  came  on  business." 

"Why,  yes.  Captain  Ellison  sent  me  with  his 
compliments  to  get  Ranger  Ridley." 

"Lost  him,  have  you?  " 

"You  can't  exactly  call  him  lost  when  we  know 
where  he  is." 

"Meanin'  that  he 's  here?  " 

"You  ring  the  bell  first  shot." 

Overstreet  broke  in,  to  mark  time.  "You  think 
we've  got  him?" 

"We  do.  Don't  you?" 

"And  Ellison  wants  him,  does  he?" 

"  W^ants  him  worse  'n  a  heifer  cow  does  her  calf." 
Roberts  laughed  softly,  as  though  from  some 
fund  of  inner  mirth.  "He's  kinda  hopin'  you'll 
prove  stubborn  so  as  to  give  him  a  chance  to 
come  an'  get  him." 

"Where  is  Ellison?" 

The  Ranger  smiled.  "He  did  n't  give  me  any 
instructions  about  tellin'  you  where  he  is." 

"H'mp!  You  can  come  in  an'  talk  with  Pete. 
We'll  have  to  blindfold  you,"  said  Dinsmore. 

The  envoy  made  no  objections.  He  dismounted. 
A  bandana  was  tied  across  his  eyes,  and  the  men 
led  him  into  the  pocket  of  rock.  The  handker- 
chief was  removed. 

Jack  told  again  what  he  had  come  for. 

"  How  did  you  know  we  were  here?  "  demanded 
Pete. 

"It 's  our  business  to  know  such  things."  Jack 


240  Oh,  You  Tex! 

did  not  think  it  wise  to  mention  that  he  had  been 
here  once  before,  the  same  day  he  found  Ruther- 
ford Wadley's  body  a  few  miles  away  at  the  foot 
of  a  bluff. 

"Ridley  told  us  he  was  alone  —  no  Rangers 
a-tall  with  him,  he  said." 

"Did  he?"  Jack  showed  amusement.  "What 
did  you  expect  him  to  tell  you?  He  draws  pay  as 
a  Ranger." 

"What 's  Ellison's  proposition?" 

"Captain  Ellison  hasn't  any  proposition  to 
make,  if  by  that  you  mean  compromise.  You  're 
to  turn  Ridley  over  to  me.  That 's  all." 

"An'  where  do  we  get  off?"  snorted  Pete. 
"  What  does  that  buy  us?  " 

"It  buys  you  six  hours'  time  for  a  get-away. 
I've  got  no  business  to  do  it,  but  I'll  promise  to 
loaf  around  an'  not  report  to  Captain  Ellison  till 
after  noon.  I  '11  go  that  far." 

"I  don'  know  's  we  want  to  make  any  get- 
away. We  could  hold  the  fort  right  here  against 
quite  a  few  Rangers,  I  reckon." 

"Suit  yourself,"  said  Jack  indifferently. 

Pete  chewed  tobacco  slowly  and  looked  down 
sullenly  at  a  flat  rock  without  seeing  it.  Anger 
burned  in  him  like  a  smouldering  fire  in  peat. 
He  hated  this  man  Roberts,  and  Ellison  he  re- 
garded as  a  natural  enemy.  Nothing  would  have 
pleased  him  more  than  to  settle  his  feud  with  the 
Ranger  on  the  spot  with  a  six-shooter.  But  that 


Oh,  You  Tex!  341 

meant  a  hurried  exit  from  the  Panhandle  at  a 
sacrifice  of  his  accumulated  profits.  This  did  not 
suit  Dinsmore's  plans.  His  purpose  was  to  leave 
Texas  with  enough  money  to  set  him  up  in 
business  in  Colorado  or  Wyoming.  It  would  not 
do  to  gratify  his  revenge  just  now.  Nor  did  he 
dare  to  carry  out  his  threat  and  let  the  Rangers 
attack  him.  His  policy  was  to  avoid  any  conflict 
if  possible. 

"Have  to  talk  it  over  with  the  other  boys,"  he 
said  abruptly.  "You  wait  here." 

Jack  sat  down  on  a  rock  while  the  rustlers  re- 
tired and  discussed  the  situation.  There  was  not 
room  for  much  difference  of  opinion.  The  Ran- 
gers had  forced  their  hand.  All  they  could  do  was 
to  slip  out  of  the  rim-rock  and  make  for  another 
zone  of  safety.  This  would  involve  losing  the 
stock  they  had  rustled,  but  their  option  was  a 
choice  of  two  evils  and  this  was  decidedly  the 
lesser. 

Pete  announced  their  decision  truculently,  his 
chin  thrust  out. 

"One  of  these  days  we'll  tangle,  you  'n'  me, 
young  fellow.  But  not  to-day.  Take  Ridley  an' 
git  out  pronto  before  I  change  my  mind.  For 
a  plug  of  tobacco  I  'd  go  to  f oggin'  the  air  right 


now." 


The  prisoner  was  brought  forward.  His  wea- 
pons were  restored  to  him.  With  the  long  strain 
of  fear  lifted  at  last  from  his  mind,  it  was  hard 


*42  Oh,  You  Tex! 

for  him  to  keep  down  a  touch  of  hysterical  joy. 
But  he  managed  to  return  Jack's  casual  greeting 
with  one  as  careless  to  all  appearance. 

He  had  caught  the  drift  of  the  talk  and  he 
played  up  to  his  friend  promptly.  "I  was  rather 
lookin'  for  you  or  one  of  the  other  boys  about 
now,  Jack,"  he  said.  "Mighty  careless  of  me  to 
get  nabbed  asleep." 

Ten  minutes  later  the  two  Rangers  were  out- 
side the  pocket  riding  across  the  plain. 

"Hope  Pete  won't  change  his  mind  an'  plump 
a  few  bullets  at  us.  He 's  a  right  explosive  propo- 
sition," said  Roberts. 

It  was  all  Arthur  could  do  to  keep  from  quick- 
ening the  pace.  His  mind  would  n't  be  easy  until 
several  miles  lay  between  him  and  his  late  captors. 

"Where's  Captain  Ellison  waiting?"  asked 
Ridley. 

"He's  probably  at  Tascosa  or  Mobeetie.  I 
have  n't  seen  him  since  you  have." 

"Didn't  he  send  you  to  the  Dinsmores  after 
me?" 

"Why,  no." 

Arthur  drew  a  deep  breath  of  relief.  If  he  had 
weakened  in  his  story  that  he  was  alone  and  had 
told  the  truth,  he  would  have  brought  rum  upon 
both  himself  and  his  friend. 

"You  mean  you  went  in  there  on  a  pure  bluff, 
knowing  how  they  hated  you  and  what  a  big 
chance  there  was  that  they  would  murder  you?" 


•^ 


Oh,  You  Tex!  24$ 

"I  took  a  chance,  I  reckon.  But  it  looked  good 
to  me." 

"If  I  had  told  them  you  and  I  were  alone — " 

"I  figured  you  wouldn't  do  that.  I  had  a 
notion  my  bluff  would  stick.  They  wouldn't 
think  I'd  come  to  them  unless  I  had  strong 
backin'.  The  bigger  the  bluff  the  better  the  chance 
of  its  workin'." 

"Unless  I  had  told  that  there  were  only  two 
fus." 

That  was  one  of  the  risks  I  had  to  gamble  on, 
but  I  felt  easy  in  my  mind  about  that.  You'll  no- 
tice one  thing  if  you  stay  with  the  Rangers,  Art. 
They  can  get  away  with  a  lot  of  things  they  could 
n't  pull  off  as  private  citizens.  The  law  is  back 
of  us,  and  back  of  the  law  is  the  State  of  Texas. 
When  it  comes  to  a  showdown,  mighty  few  citizens 
want  to  get  us  after  them  good  and  hard.  We  al- 
ways win  in  the  end.  The  bad-men  all  know  that." 

"Just  the  same,  for  cold  nerve  I  never  saw  the 
beat  of  what  you  did  now." 

"  Sho !  Nothin'  to  that.  A  pair  of  deuces  is  good 
as  a  full  house  when  your  hand  ain't  called.  We'll 
swing  over  to  the  left  here  an'  gather  up  that 
bunch  of  rustled  stock,  Art." 

Late  that  afternoon,  as  they  were  following  the 
dust  of  the  drive,  Ridley  voiced  a  doubt  in  his 
heart. 

"Is  n't  there  a  chance  that  the  Dinsmores  will 
follow  us  and  find  out  we're  alone? " 


244  Oh,  You  Tex! 

"Quite  a  chance,"  agreed  Jack  cheerfully. 
"If  so,  we're  liable  to  swap  bullets  yet.  But  I 
don't  reckon  they  '11  do  that  hardly.  More  likely 
they  're  hittin'  the  trail  for  Palo  Duro  to  hole  up." 

The  outlaws  did  not  molest  them  during  the 
drive.  Four  days  later  they  reached  town  with 
their  thirsty,  travel-worn  herd. 

Captain  Ellison  was  at  the  hotel  and  Jack  re- 
ported to  him  at  once. 

The  eyes  of  the  little  Ranger  Chief  gleamed. 
"Good  boys,  both  of  you.  By  dog,  the  old  man 
won't  write  me  any  more  sassy  letters  when  he 
reads  what  you  done.  I  always  did  say  that  my 
boys—" 

"  —  Were  a  bunch  of  triflin'  scalawags,"  Jack 
reminded  him. 

The  Captain  fired  up,  peppery  as  ever.  "You 
light  outa  here  and  see  if  a  square  meal  won't 
help  some,  you  blamed  impudent  young  rascal/5 


CHAPTER  XXXH 

THE  HOLD-UP 

WHEN  Wadley  made  to  Jack  Roberts  the  offer 
he  had  spoken  of  to  his  daughter,  the  face  of  that 
young  man  lighted  up  at  once.  But  without  hes- 
itation he  refused  the  chance  to  manage  the 
A  T  O  ranch. 

"Sorry,  but  I  can't  work  for  you,  Mr.  Wad- 
ley." 

The  big  Texan  stiffened.  "All  right,"  he  said 
huffily.  "Just  as  you  please.  I'm  not  goin'  to  beg 
you  on  my  knees  to  take  the  best  job  in  the 
Panhandle.  Plenty  of  good  men  want  it." 

The  frank  smile  of  the  Ranger  was  disarming, 
"They  don't  want  it  any  worse  than  I  do,  Mr. 
Wadley.  I  'm  not  a  fool.  Just  because  we  had  a 
difference  oncet,  I  'm  not  standin'  on  my  dignity. 
Nothin'  like  that.  You're  offerin'  me  a  big  chance 
—  the  biggest  I  'm  ever  likely  to  get.  When  you 
pick  me  to  boss  the  A  T  O  under  yore  orders, 
you  pay  me  a  sure-enough  compliment,  an'  I  'd 
be  plumb  glad  to  say  yes." 

"Well,  why  don't  you?" 

"Because  the  Rangers  have  got  an  unfinished 
job  before  them  here,  an'  I  'm  not  goin'  to  leave 
Captain  Ellison  in  the  lurch.  I'll  stick  to  my  dol- 
lar a  day  till  we  've  made  a  round-up." 


246  Oh,  You  Tex! 

The  cattleman  clapped  him  on  the  shoulder. 
"That 's  right,  boy.  That 's  the  way  to  talk.  Make 
yore  clean-up,  then  come  see  me.  I  won't  prom- 
ise to  hold  this  job  open,  but  I  want  you  to  talk 
with  me  before  you  sign  up  with  any  one  else." 

But  the  weeks  passed,  and  the  Dinsmores  still 
operated  in  the  land.  They  worked  under  cover, 
less  openly  than  in  the  old  days,  but  still  a  storm- 
center  of  trouble.  It  was  well  known  that  they 
set  the  law  at  defiance,  but  no  man  who  could 
prove  it  would  produce  evidence. 

Meanwhile  spring  had  made  way  for  summer, 
and  summer  was  beginning  to  burn  into  autumn. 
The  little  force  of  Rangers  rode  the  land  and 
watched  for  that  false  move  which  some  day  the 
Dinsmores  would  make  to  bring  them  within 
reach  of  the  law. 

On  one  of  its  trips  in  the  early  fall,  the  Clar- 
endon stage  left  town  almost  half  an  hour  late.  It 
carried  with  it  a  secret,  but  everybody  on  board 
had  heard  a  whisper  of  it.  There  was  a  gold  ship- 
ment in  the  box  consigned  to  Tascosa.  A  smooth- 
faced Ranger  sat  beside  the  driver  with  a  rifle 
across  his  knees.  He  had  lately  been  appointed 
to  the  force,  and  this  was  one  of  his  first  assign* 
ments.  Perhaps  that  was  wrhy  Arthur  Ridley  was 
a  little  conscious  of  his  new  buckskin  suit  and 
the  importance  of  his  job. 

The  passengers  were  three.  One  was  a  jolly 
Irish  mule-skinner  with  a  picturesque  vocabulary 


Oh,  You  Tex!  £47 

and  an  inimitable  brogue.  The  second  wore  the 
black  suit  and  low-crowned  hat  of  a  clergyman, 
and  yellow  goggles  to  protect  his  eyes  from  the 
sun.  He  carried  a  roll  of  Scriptural  charts  such  as 
are  used  in  Sunday-Schools.  The  third  was  an 
angular  and  spectacled  schoolmarm,  for  Tascosa 
was  going  to  celebrate  by  starting  a  school. 

Most  of  those  on  board  were  a  trifle  nervous. 
The  driver  was  not  quite  at  his  ease;  nor  wag 
the  shotgun  messenger.  For  somehow  word  had 
got  out  a  day  or  two  in  advance  of  the  gold  ship- 
ment that  it  was  to  be  sent  on  that  date.  The 
passengers,  too,  had  faint  doubts  about  the  wis- 
dom of  going  to  Tascosa  on  that  particular  trip. 

The  first  twenty  miles  of  the  journey  were 
safely  covered.  The  stage  drew  near  to  the  place 
where  now  is  located  the  famous  Goodnight 
cattalo  ranch. 

From  the  farther  side  of  a  cut  in  the  road  came 
a  sharp  order  to  the  driver.  Two  men  had  ridden 
out  from  the  brush  and  were  moving  beside  the 
stage.  Each  of  them  carried  a  rifle. 

The  driver  leaned  backward  on  the  reins  with 
a  loud  "Whoa!"  It  was  an  article  of  faith  with 
him  never  to  argue  with  a  road-agent. 

Ridley  swung  round  to  fire.  From  the  opposite 
side  of  the  road  a  shot  rang  out.  Two  more  horse- 
men had  appeared.  The  reins  slid  from  the  hands 
of  the  driver,  and  he  himself  from  the  seat.  His 
body  struck  the  wheel  on  the  way  to  the  ground. 


248  Oh,  You  Tex! 

The  bullet  intended  for  the  armed  guard  had 
passed  through  his  head. 

In  the  packed  moments  that  followed,  a  dozen 
shots  were  fired,  most  of  them  by  the  outlaws, 
two  by  the  man  on  the  box.  A  bullet  struck  Ar- 
thur in  the  elbow,  and  the  shock  of  it  for  a  time 
paralyzed  his  arm.  The  rifle  clattered  against  the 
singletree  in  its  fall.  But  the  shortest  of  the  out- 
laws was  sagging  in  his  saddle  and  clutching  at 
the  pommel  to  support  himself. 

From  an  unexpected  quarter  there  came  a  di- 
version. With  one  rapid  gesture  the  man  in  the 
clergyman's  garb  had  brushed  aside  his  yellow 
goggles;  with  another  he  had  stripped  the  outer 
cover  of  charts  from  his  roll  and  revealed  a  sawed- 
off  shotgun.  As  he  stepped  down  to  the  road,  he 
fired  from  his  hip.  The  whole  force  of  the  load 
of  buckshot  took  the  nearest  outlaw  in  the  vitals 
and  lifted  him  from  his  horse.  Before  he  struck 
the  ground  he  was  dead. 

In  the  flash  of  an  eye  the  tide  of  battle  had 
turned.  The  surprise  of  seeing  the  clergyman  gal- 
vanized into  action  tipped  the  scale.  One  mo- 
ment the  treasure  lay  unguarded  within  reach 
of  the  outlaws;  the  next  saw  their  leader  struck 
down  as  by  a  bolt  from  heaven. 

The  lank  bandit  ripped  out  a  sudden  oath  of 
alarm  from  behind  the  handkerchief  he  wore  as  a 
mask  and  turned  his  horse  in  its  tracks.  He  dug 
home  his  spurs  and  galloped  for  the  brow  of  the 


Oh,  You  Tex!  249 

tt/SL  The  other  unwounded  robber  backed  away 
mor-j)  deliberately,  covering  the  retreat  of  his  in- 
jured companion.  Presently  they,  too,  had  passed 
over  the  top  of  the  hill  and  disappeared. 

The  ex-clergyman  turned  to  the  treasure- 
guard.  " How  bad  is  it  with  you,  Art?"  he  asked 
gently. 

That  young  man  grinned  down  a  little  wanly 
at  Jack  Roberts.  He  felt  suddenly  nauseated  and 
ill.  This  business  of  shooting  men  and  being  shot 
at  filled  him  with  horror. 

"  Not  so  bad.  I  got  it  in  the  arm,  Jack.  Poor  old 
Hank  will  never  drive  again." 

The  Ranger  who  had  been  camouflaged  as  a 
clergyman  stooped  to  examine  the  driver.  That 
old-timer's  heart  had  stopped  beating.  "He 's  gone 
on  his  last  long  trip,  Art." 

"This  schoolmarm  lady  has  fainted,"  an- 
nounced the  mule-skinner. 

"She's  got  every  right  in  the  world  to  faint. 
In  Iowa,  where  she  comes  from,  folks  live  in 
peace.  Better  sprinkle  water  on  her  face,  Mike." 

Jack  moved  over  to  the  dead  outlaw  and  lifted 
the  bandana  mask  from  the  face.  "Pete  Dins- 
more,  just  like  I  thought,"  he  told  Ridley.  "Well, 
he  had  to  have  it  —  could  n't  learn  his  lesson  any 
other  way." 

Roberts  di*ove  the  stage  with  its  load  of  dead 
and  wounded  back  to  Clarendon.  As  quickly  as 
possible  he  gathered  a  small  posse  to  follow  the 


250  Oh,  You  Tex! 

bandits.  Hampered  as  the  outlaws  were  with  a 
badly  wounded  man,  there  was  a  good  chance  of 
running  them  to  earth  at  last.  Before  night  he 
and  his  deputies  were  far  out  on  the  plains  fol- 
lowing a  trail  that  led  toward  Palo  Duro  Cafion* 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

THE  MAN  WITH  THE  YELLOW  STREAK 

NIGHT  fell  on  both  a  dry  and  fireless  camp  for 
the  outlaws  who  had  tried  to  rob  the  Clarendon- 
Tascosa  stage.  They  had  covered  a  scant  twenty 
miles  instead  of  the  eighty  they  should  have  put 
behind  them.  For  Dave  Overstreet  had  been  lit- 
erally dying  in  the  saddle  every  step  of  the  way. 

He  had  clenched  his  teeth  and  clung  to  the 
pommel  desperately.  Once  he  had  fainted  and 
slid  from  his  seat.  But  the  bandits  could  not  stop 
and  camp,  though  Dinsmore  kept  the  pace  to 
a  walk. 

"Once  we  reach  Palo  Duro,  we'll  hole  up 
among  the  rocks  an'  fix  you  up  fine,  Dave,"  his 
companion  kept  promising. 

"  Sure,  Homer.  I  'm  doin'  dandy,"  the  wounded 
man  would  answer  from  white,  bloodless  lips. 

The  yellow  streak  in  Gurley  was  to  the  fore  all 
day.  It  evidenced  itself  in  his  precipitate  retreat 
from  the  field  of  battle  —  a  flight  which  carried 
him  miles  across  the  desert  before  he  dared  wait 
for  his  comrades.  It  showed  again  in  the  proposal 
which  he  made  early  in  the  afternoon  to  Dins- 
more. 

The  trio  *>f  outlaws  had  been  moving  very 
slowly  on  account  of  the  suffering  of  the  wounded 


Oh,  You  Tex! 

man.  Gurley  kept  looking  back  nervously  every 
few  minutes  to  see  if  pursuers  were  visible.  After 
a  time  he  sidled  up  to  Dinsmore  and  spoke  low. 

"They'll  get  us  sure  if  we  don't  move  livelier, 
Homer." 

"  How  in  Mexico  can  we  move  faster  when  Dave 
can't  stand  it?  "  asked  Dinsmore  impatiently. 

"  He 's  a  mighty  sick  man.  He  had  n't  ought  to 
be  on  horseback  at  all.  He  needs  a  doctor." 

"Will  you  go  an'  get  him  one?"  demanded 
Homer  with  sour  sarcasm. 

"What  I  say  is,  let's  fix  him  up  comfortable, 
an'  after  a  while  mebbe  a  posse  will  come  along 
an'  pick  him  up.  They  can  look  after  him  better 
than  we  got  a  chance  to  do,"  argued  Gurley. 

"And  mebbe  a  posse  won't  find  him  —  what 
then?  "  rasped  Dinsmore. 

"They  will.  If  they  don't,  he'll  die  easy.  This 
is  sure  enough  hell  for  him  now." 

"  All  right.  Shall  we  stop  right  here  with  him?  " 

"That  wouldn't  do  any  good,  Homer.  The 
Rangers  would  get  us  too." 

"I  see.  Yore  idea  is  to  let  Dave  die  easy  while 
we're  savin'  our  hides.  Steve,  you've  got  a  streak 
in  you  a  foot  wide." 

"Nothin'  like  that,  "protested  the  man  with 
the  eyes  that  did  n't  track.  "I'd  stay  by  him  if 
it  was  any  use.  But  it  ain't.  Whyfor  should  you 
an'  me  stretch  a  rope  when  we  can't  help  Dave 
a  mite?  It  ain't  reasonable." 


Oh,  You  Tex! 

Overstreet  could  not  hear  what  was  said,  but 
he  guessed  the  tenor  of  their  talk.  "Go  ahead, 
boys,  an'  leave  me.  I'm  about  done  anyhow," 
he  said. 

"If  Gurley  has  a  mind  to  go,  he  can.  I'll 
stick,"  answered  Dinsmore  gruffly. 

But  Gurley  did  not  want  to  go  alone.  There 
were  possible  dangers  to  be  faced  that  two  men 
could  meet  a  good  deal  more  safely  than  one.  It 
might  be  that  they  would  have  to  stand  off  a 
posse.  They  might  meet  Indians.  The  sallow  out- 
law felt  that  he  could  not  afford  just  now  to 
break  with  his  companion.  It  was  not  likely  that 
the  Rangers  would  reach  them  that  night,  and 
he  guessed  craftily  that  Overstreet  would  not  live 
till  morning.  The  wound  was  a  very  serious  one. 
The  man  had  traveled  miles  before  Dinsmore 
could  stop  to  give  him  such  slight  first  aid  as  was 
possible,  and  the  jolting  of  the  long  horseback 
ride  had  made  it  difficult  to  stop  the  bleeding 
which  broke  out  again  and  again. 

After  Dinsmore  had  eased  the  wounded  man 
from  his  horse  at  dusk  and  laid  him  on  a  blanket 
with  a  saddle  for  a  pillow,  Overstreet  smiled 
faintly  up  at  him. 

"It  won't  be  for  long,  Homer.  You'll  be  shet  of 
me  right  soon  now,"  he  murmured. 

"Don't  you  talk  thataway,  Dave.  I  don't  want 
to  be  shet  of  you.  After  a  good  night's  rest  you'll 
feel  a  new  man." 


254  Oh,  You  Tex! 

"No,  I've  got  more  than  I  can  pack.  It  won't 
be  long  now.  I  'm  right  comfortable  here.  Steve 's 
in  a  hurry.  You  go  on  an'  hit  the  trail  with  him/' 

"Where  did  you  get  the  notion  I  was  yellow, 
old-timer?  I've  hunted  in  couples  with  you  for 
years.  Do  you  reckon  I'm  goin'  to  run  like  a  cur 
now  you've  struck  a  streak  o'  bad  luck?"  asked 
Dinsmore  huskily. 

The  dying  man  smiled  his  thanks.  "You  al- 
ways was  a  stubborn  son-of-a-gun,  Homer.  But 
Steve,  he  wants  — " 

"Steve  can  go  to  —  Hell  Creek,  if  he 's  so  set 
on  travelin'  in  a  hurry.  Here,  drink  some  of  this 
water." 

The  blanket  of  darkness  fell  over  the  land. 
Stars  came  out,  at  first  one  or  two,  then  by  thou- 
sands, till  the  night  was  full  of  them.  The  wounded 
man  dozed  and  stirred  and  dozed  again.  It  was 
plain  that  the  sands  of  his  life  were  running  low. 
Dinsmore,  watching  beside  him,  knew  that  it 
was  the  ebb  tide. 

A  little  after  midnight  Overstreet  roused  him- 
self, recognized  the  watcher,  and  nodded  good- 
bye. 

"So  long,  Homer.  I'm  hittin'  the  home  trail 


now." 


His  hand  groped  feebly  till  it  found  that  of  his 
friend.  A  few  minutes  later  he  died,  still  holding 
the  strong  warm  hand  of  the  man  who  was  nurs- 
him. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  265 

Dinsmore  crossed  the  hands  of  the  dead  out- 
law and  covered  him  with  a  blanket. 

"Saddle  up,  Steve,"  he  told  Gurley. 

While  he  waited  for  the  horses,  he  looked  down 
with  a  blur  over  his  eyes.  He  had  ridden  hard 
and  crooked  trails  all  his  life,  but  he  had  lost  that 
day  his  brother  and  his  best  friend.  The  three  of 
them  had  been  miscreants.  They  had  broken  the 
laws  of  society  and  had  fought  against  it  because 
of  the  evil  in  them  that  had  made  them  a  de- 
structive force.  But  they  had  always  played  fair 
with  each  other.  They  had  at  least  been  loyal 
to  their  own  bad  code.  Now  he  was  alone,  for 
Gurley  did  not  count. 

Presently  the  other  man  stood  at  his  elbow 
with  the  saddled  horses.  Dinsmore  swung  to  the 
saddle  and  rode  away.  Not  once  did  he  look  back, 
but  he  had  no  answer  for  Gurley's  cheerful  pre- 
diction that  now  they  would  reach  Palo  Duro 
Canon  all  right  and  would  hole  up  there  till  the 
pursuit  had  spent  itself,  after  which  they  could 
amble  down  across  the  line  to  Old  Mexico  or 
could  strike  the  Pecos  and  join  Billy  the  Kid. 
Only  one  idea  was  fixed  definitely  in  his  mind, 
that  as  soon  as  he  could,  he  would  part  company 
with  the  man  riding  beside  him. 

When  day  came,  it  found  them  riding  west- 
ward in  the  direction  of  Deaf  Smith  County.  The 
Canon  was  not  far  south  of  them,  but  there  was 
no  need  of  plunging  into  it  yet.  The  pursuit  must 


256  Oh,  You  Tex! 

be  hours  behind  them,  even  if  then"  trail  had  not 
been  lost  altogether.  They  rode  easily,  prepared 
to  camp  at  the  first  stream  or  water-hole  they 
reached. 

"We'll  throw  off  here,"  Dinsmore  decided  at 
the  first  brook  they  reached. 

They  unsaddled  and  hobbled  their  horses. 
While  Gurley  lighted  a  fire  for  the  coffee,  the 
other  man  strolled  up  the  creek  to  get  a  shot  at 
any  small  game  he  might  find.  Presently  a  brace 
of  prairie-chickens  rose  with  a  whir  of  wings.  The 
rifle  cracked,  and  one  of  them  fell  fluttering  to 
the  ground.  Dinsmore  moved  forward  to  pick  up 
the  bird. 

Abruptly  he  stopped  in  his  stride.  He  fancied 
he  heard  a  faint  cry.  It  came  again,  carried  on  the 
light  morning  breeze.  He  could  have  sworn  that 
it  was  the  call  of  a  woman  for  help. 

Dinsmore  grew  wary.  He  knew  the  tricks  of 
the  Indians,  the  wily  ways  with  which  they  lured 
men  into  ambush.  There  had  been  rumors  fof 
days  that  the  Indians  were  out  again.  Yet  it  was 
not  like  Indians  to  announce  their  presence  be- 
fore they  pounced  upon  their  prey.  He  moved 
very  slowly  forward  under  cover  of  the  brush 
along  the  bed  of  the  stream. 

The  voice  came  to  him  again,  closer  this  time, 
and  in  spite  of  the  distance  clear  as  a  bell.  It  was 
surely  that  of  a  white  woman  in  trouble.  Still  he 
did  not  answer  as  he  crept  forward  up  the  stream. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  257 

Then  he  caught  sight  of  her  —  a  girl,  slim  and 
young,  stumbling  forward  through  the  grass, 
exhaustion  showing  in  every  line  of  the  body. 

She  stretched  out  her  hands  to  hii$  across  the 
space  between,  with  a  little  despairing  cry. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

RAMONA  GOES  DUCK-HUNTING 

"I9M  going  duck-hunting,  Daddy,"  announced 
Ramona  one  evening  at  supper.  "Quint  Sullivan 
is  going  with  me.  We're  to  get  up  early  in  the 
morning  and  leave  before  daybreak." 

They  had  been  back  at  the  ranch  several 
weeks,  and  'Mona  was  tired  of  practicing  on  the 
piano  and  reading  Scott's  novels  after  her  work 
about  the  house  was  done.  She  was  restless.  Her 
father  had  noticed  it  and  wondered  why.  He 
would  have  been  amazed  to  learn  that  the  long- 
ing to  see  or  hear  about  a  certain  brindle-haired 
former  line-rider  of  his  had  anything  to  do  with 
her  unrest.  Indeed,  Ramona  did  not  confess  this 
even  to  herself.  She  tried  to  think  that  she  had 
been  cooped  up  in  the  house  too  long.  Hence  the 
duck-hunting  as  an  escape. 

"All  right,  honey.  I'll  give  Quint  notice  who 
his  boss  is  to-morrow." 

"I've  already  given  him  his  orders,  Dad,"  his 
daughter  said,  with  a  saucy  little  moue  at  her 
father. 

Clint  chuckled.  "  'Nough  said.  When  you  give 
orders  I  take  a  back  seat.  Every  rider  on  the  place 
knows  that.  I'm  the  most  henpecked  dad  in 
Texas." 


Oh,  You  Tex!  259 

By  daybreak  Ramona  and  her  escort  were  sev- 
eral miles  from  the  ranch  on  their  way  to  the 
nearest  lake.  Quint  was  a  black-haired,  good- 
looking  youth  who  rode  the  range  for  the  A  T  O 
outfit.  Like  most  of  the  unmarried  men  about  her 
between  the  ages  of  fifteen  and  fifty,  he  imagined 
himself  in  love  with  the  daughter  of  the  boss.  He 
had  no  expectation  whatever  of  marrying  her. 
He  would  as  soon  have  thought  of  asking  Wadley 
to  give  him  a  deed  to  the  ranch  as  he  would  of 
mentioning  to  Ramona  the  state  of  his  feelings. 
But  that  young  woman,  in  spite  of  her  manner 
of  frank  innocence,  knew  quite  accurately  how 
matters  stood,  just  as  she  knew  that  in  due  time 
Quint  would  transfer  his  misplaced  affections  to 
some  more  reciprocal  object  of  them. 

Her  particular  reason  for  selecting  Quint  as  her 
companion  of  the  day  was  that  he  happened  to 
be  a  devoted  admirer  of  Jack  Roberts.  All  one 
needed  to  do  was  to  mention  the  Ranger  to  set 
him  off  on  a  string  of  illustrative  anecdotes,  and 
Ramona  was  hungry  for  the  very  sound  of  his 
name.  One  advantage  in  talking  to  young  Sulli- 
van about  his  friend  was  that  the  ingenuous 
youth  would  never  guess  that  the  subject  of  their 
conversation  had  been  chosen  by  her  rather  than 
by  him. 

"Did  I  ever  tell  you,  Miss  Ramona,  about  the 
time  Texas  an'  me  went  to  Denver?  Gentlemen, 
hush!  We  ce'tainly  had  one  large  time." 


£60  Oh,  You  Tex! 

"You  boys  ought  not  to  spend  your  time  in 
the  saloons  whenever  you  go  to  town.  It  is  n't 
good  for  you,"  reproved  the  sage  young  woman 
who  was  "going-on  seventeen." 

She  was  speaking  for  a  purpose,  and  Quint 
very  innocently  answered  the  question  in  her 
mind. 

"No,  ma'am.  I  reckon  you're  right.  But  we 
did  n't  infest  the  saloons  none  that  time.  Texas, 
he's  one  of  these  here  good  bad-men.  He's  one 
sure-enough  tough  nut,  an'  I'd  hate  to  try  te 
crack  him,  but  the  queer  thing  is  he  don't  drink 
or  chew  or  go  hellin'  around  with  the  boys.  But, 
say,  he's  some  live  lad,  lemme  tell  you.  What  do 
you  reckon  he  pulled  off  on  me  whilst  we  was  in 
Denver?" 

"Some  foolishness,  I  suppose,"  said  Ramona 
severely,  but  she  was  not  missing  a  word. 

"He  meets  up  with  a  newspaper  guy  an'  gets 
to  fillin'  him  plumb  full  o'  misinformation  about 
me.  To  hear  him  tell  it  I  was  the  white-haired 
guy  from  the  Panhandle  an'  had  come  to  Denver 
for  to  hunt  a  girl  to  marry.  Well,  that  reporter 
he  goes  back  an'  writes  a  piece  in  his  paper 
about  how  it  was  the  chance  of  a  lifetime  for 
any  onmarried  fe-male,  of  even  disposition  an' 
pleasin'  appearance,  between  the  ages  of  twenty 
an'  thirty-five,  to  marry  a  guaranteed  Texas  cow- 
puncher,  warranted  kind  an'  sound  an'  to  nua 
easy  in  double  harness.  An'  would  the  ladies 


Oh,  You  Tex!  «6l 

please  come  early  to  the  St.  Peter  hotel  an' 
inquire  for  Mr.  Quint  Sullivan." 

"Did  any  of  them  come?"  asked  Ramona,  her 
eyes  dancing. 

"Did  they?  Wow!  They  swarmed  up  the  stairs 
an'  crowded  the  elevators,  while  that  doggoned 
Tex  sicked  'em  on  me.  Honest,  I  did  n't  know 
there  was  so  many  onmarried  ladies  in  the  world.'* 

"How  did  you  escape?"  asked  the  girl,  well 
aware  that  he  was  drawing  the  long  bow. 

"Ma'am,  the  fire  department  rescued  me.  But 
I  ce'tainly  did  lie  awake  the  balance  of  the  trip 
tryin'  to  get  even  with  Jack  Roberts.  But  it 's  no 
manner  of  use.  He  lands  right-side  up  every  time." 

After  they  had  reached  Crane  Lake  the  cow^ 
puncher  tied  the  horses  while  Ramona  started 
around  to  the  far  side,  following  the  shore  line 
and  keeping  her  eyes  open  for  ducks.  The  girl 
made  a  half-circuit  of  the  lake  without  getting 
a  shot.  There  were  ducks  enough  to  be  seen,  but 
as  yet  none  of  them  were  within  range. 

It  might  have  been  half  an  hour  after  Ramona 
left  Sullivan  that  there  came  a  shot  from  the 
other  side  of  the  lake.  It  was  followed  almost  im- 
mediately by  a  second,  a  third,  and  a  fourth. 
'Mona  caught  sight  of  Quint  running  fast  toward 
the  horses.  Her  heart  felt  a  sudden  constriction 
as  of  an  iron  band  tightening  upon  it,  for  half  a 
dozen  mounted  Indians  were  in  hot  pursuit.  She 
saw  the  boy  reach  the  nearest  bronco,  jerk  loose 


£62  Oh,  You  Tex! 

the  bridle  rein,  vault  to  the  saddle,  and  gallop 
away,  lying  low  on  the  back  of  the  horse.  The  In- 
dians fired  from  their  horses  as  they  rode,  but  the 
man  flying  for  his  life  did  not  take  time  to  shoot. 

For  a  moment  'Mona  stood  in  plain  view  by 
the  lake  shore.  Then  she  dropped  among  the 
rushes,  her  heart  fluttering  wildly  like  that  of  a 
forest  bird  held  captive  in  the  hand.  She  was 
alone,  at  the  mercy  of  twoscore  of  hostile  Indians. 
They  would  know  that  the  cowboy  had  a  com- 
panion because  of  the  second  bronco,  and  as  soon 
as  they  returned  from  the  pursuit  they  would  be- 
gin a  search  for  her.  Perhaps  they  might  not  even 
wait  till  then.  'Mona  lay  there  in  despair  while  one 
might  have  counted  a  hundred.  During  that  time 
she  gave  herself  up  for  lost.  She  could  neither  move 
nor  think.  But  presently  there  flowed  back  into 
her  heart  a  faint  hope.  Perhaps  she  had  not  yet 
been  seen.  There  was  a  little  arroyo  farther  to  the 
left.  If  she  could  reach  it,  still  unnoticed,  at  least 
she  could  then  run  for  her  life. 

She  crept  through  the  rushes  on  hands  and 
knees,  sinking  sometimes  wrist-deep  in  water. 
There  was  one  stretch  of  perhaps  thirty  yards 
at  the  end  of  the  rushes  that  had  to  be  taken  with- 
out cover.  She  flew  across  the  open,  a  miracle  of 
supple  lightness,  reached  the  safety  of  the  little 
gulch,  and  ran  as  she  had  never  run  before.  Every 
moment  she  expected  to  hear  the  crash  of  the 
pursuers  breaking  through  the  brush. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  263 

On  the  ranch  she  had  lived  largely  an  outdoor 
life,  and  in  spite  of  her  slenderness  was  lithe  and 
agile.  Beneath  her  soft  flesh  hard  muscles  flowed, 
for  she  had  known  the  sting  of  sleet  and  the 
splash  of  sun.  But  the  rapid  climb  had  set  her 
heart  pumping  fast.  Her  speed  began  to  slacken. 

Near  the  summit  was  a  long,  uptilted  stratum 
of  rock  which  led  to  the  left  and  dipped  over  the 
ridge.  She  followed  this  because  no  tracks  would 
here  betray  where  she  had  escaped.  For  almost 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  she  descended  on  the  out- 
cropping quartz,  flying  in  an  ecstasy  of  terror 
from  the  deadly  danger  that  might  at  any  in- 
stant appear  on  the  crest  of  the  divide  behind 
her. 

Ramona  came  to  a  cleft  ha  the  huge  boulder,  a 
deep,  narrow  gash  that  looked  as  if  it  might  have 
been  made  by  a  sword  stroke  of  the  gods.  She 
peered  into  the  shadowy  gulf,  but  could  not  see 
the  bottom  of  the  fissure.  A  pebble  dropped  by 
her  took  so  long  to  strike  that  she  knew  the 
chasm  must  be  deep. 

If  she  could  get  down  into  it,  perhaps  she 
might  hide  from  the  savages.  It  was  her  one  pos- 
sible chance  of  escape.  The  girl  moved  along  the 
edge  of  the  precipice  trying  to  find  a  way  down 
that  was  not  sheer.  An  arrowweed  thicket  had 
struggled  up  from  a  jutting  spar  of  rock.  Below 
this  was  a  ridge  where  her  foot  might  find  a  sup- 
port. Beyond  was  a  rock  wall  that  disappeared 


264  Oh,  You  Tex! 

into  empty  space.  But  'Mona  could  not  choose. 
She  must  take  this  or  nothing. 

By  means  of  the  arrowweed  she  lowered  her- 
self over  the  edge  while  her  foot  groped  for  the 
spar  of  quartz.  Her  last  look  up  the  hill  showed 
Indians  pouring  across  the  ridge  in  pursuit.  With- 
out hesitation  she  chose  the  chances  of  death  in 
the  cavern  to  the  certainty  of  the  torture  waiting 
for  her  outside.  Foot  by  foot  she  lowered  herself, 
making  the  most  of  every  irregularity  in  the  rock 
wall  that  offered  a  grip  for  hand  or  foot.  The  dis- 
tance down  seemed  interminable.  She  worked 
herself  into  a  position  where  she  could  move  nei- 
ther up  nor  down.  While  her  foot  was  searching 
for  a  brace  one  of  her  hands  slipped  and  she  went 
the  rest  of  the  way  with  a  rush. 

For  a  time  she  lay  there  in  the  darkness,  shaken 
and  bruised  by  the  fall,  a  sharp  pain  shooting 
through  one  of  her  legs  just  above  the  ankle.  Dur- 
ing those  minutes  of  daze  voices  came  to  her  from 
the  slit  of  light  above.  The  painted  face  of  an 
Apache  leaned  over  the  edge  of  the  wall  and 
looked  into  the  gulf . 

The  girl  made  not  the  least  movement.  She  did 
not  stir  to  relieve  the  pain  of  her  leg.  Scarcely  did 
she  dare  breathe  lest  the  sound  of  it  might  reach 
those  above. 

The  Apaches  began  to  fire  into  the  fissure.  Ra- 
mona  noiselessly  dragged  herself  close  to  the 
overhanging  wall.  Shot  after  shot  was  flung  into 


Oh,  You  Tex!  265 

the  cavern  at  random.  Fortunately  for  Ramona 
the  strain  of  the  situation  relaxed  abruptly.  A 
wave  of  light-headedness  seemed  to  carry  her 
floating  into  space.  She  fainted. 

When  she  came  to  herself  no  sound  reached  the 
girl  from  above.  The  Indians  had  no  doubt  con- 
cluded that  their  victim  was  not  in  the  cavern 
and  taken  up  the  pursuit  again.  But  she  knew 
the  cunning  of  the  Apache.  Probably  one  or  two 
braves  had  been  left  to  watch  the  cleft.  She  lay 
quite  still  and  listened.  All  she  could  hear  was 
the  fearful  beating  of  her  heart. 

For  hours  she  lay  there  without  making  a 
sound.  The  patience  of  the  Apache  is  proverbial. 
It  was  possible  they  knew  where  she  was  and 
were  waiting  for  her  to  deliver  herself  to  them. 

'Mona  had  one  ghastly  comfort.  The  little  re- 
volver she  had  brought  along  with  which  to 
shoot  rattlesnakes  was  still  in  its  scabbard  by  her 
ride.  If  they  would  give  her  only  a  moment  or 
two  of  warning,  she  would  never  fall  alive  into 
the  hands  of  the  redskins. 

Time  was  unmarked  for  her  in  the  darkness  of 
the  cavern.  She  could  not  tell  whether  it  was  still 
morning  or  whether  the  afternoon  was  nearing 
an  end.  Such  a  day,  so  full  of  dreadful  horrors,  so 
long  from  morning  till  night,  she  had  never  be- 
fore passed.  It  seemed  to  her  that  a  week  of  hours 
had  come  and  gone  before  the  ligkfe  above  began 
to  fade. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

THE  DESERT 

IT  was  only  recently  that  Clint  Wadley  had  be- 
come a  man  of  wealth,  and  life  in  the  Panhandle 
was  even  yet  very  primitive  according  to  pres- 
ent-day standards.  There  was  no  railroad  within 
one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  of  the  A  T  O  ranch. 
Once  in  two  weeks  one  of  the  cowboys  rode  to 
Clarendon  to  get  the  mail  and  to  buy  small  sup- 
plies. Otherwise  contact  with  the  world  was  lim- 
ited to  occasional  visits  to  town. 

As  a  little  girl  Ramona  had  lived  in  a  one-room 
house  built  of  round  logs,  with  a  stick-and-mud 
chimney,  a  door  of  clapboards  daubed  with  mud 
at  the  chinks,  and  a  dirt  floor  covered  with  punch- 
eons. She  had  slept  in  a  one-legged  bedstead 
fitted  into  the  wall,  through  the  sides  and  ends  of 
which  bed,  at  intervals  of  eight  inches,  holes  had 
been  bored  to  admit  of  green  rawhide  strips  for 
slats.  She  had  sat  on  a  home-made  three-legged 
stool  at  a  home-made  table  in  homespun  clothes 
and  eaten  a  dish  of  cush1  for  her  supper.  She  had 
watched  her  aunt  make  soap  out  of  lye  dripping 
from  an  ash-hopper.  The  only  cooking  utensils  in 
the  house  had  been  a  Dutch  oven,  a  three-legged 

1  Cush  is  made  of  old  corn  bread  and  biscuits  in  milk,  beaten 
to  a  batter  and  fried  in  bacon  grease  with  salt. 


Oh,  You  Tex! 

skillet,  a  dinner-pot,  a  tea-kettle,  a  big  iron 
shovel,  and  a  pair  of  pot-hooks  suspended  from 
an  iron  that  hung  above  the  open  fire. 

But  those  were  memories  of  her  childhood  in 
southern  Texas.  With  the  coming  of  prosperity 
Clint  had  sent  his  children  to  Tennessee  to  school, 
and  Ramona  had  been  patiently  trained  to  the 
feebleness  of  purpose  civilization  in  those  days 
demanded  of  women  of  her  class  and  section.  She 
had  been  taught  to  do  fancy  needlework  and  to 
play  the  piano  as  a  parlor  accomplishment.  It  had 
been  made  plain  to  her  that  her  business  in  life 
was  to  marry  and  keep  the  home  fires  burning, 
and  her  schooling  had  been  designed,  not  to  pre- 
pare her  as  a  mate  for  her  future  husband,  but 
to  fit  her  with  the  little  graces  that  might  entice 
him  into  choosing  her  for  a  wife. 

Upon  her  return  to  the  ranch  Ramona  had 
compromised  between  her  training  and  her  in- 
heritance. She  took  again  to  horseback  riding  and 
to  shooting,  even  though  she  read  a  good  deal  and 
paid  due  attention  to  her  pink-and-white  com- 
plexion. 

So  that  when  she  looked  up  from  the  cavern 
in  which  she  was  buried  and  caught  a  gleam  of 
a  star  in  the  slit  of  blue  sky  above,  she  was  not 
so  helpless  as  her  schooling  had  been  designed 
to  make  her.  The  girl  was  compact  of  supple 
strength.  Endurance  and  a  certain  toughness  of 
fiber  had  come  to  her  from  old  Clint  Wadley . 


263  Oh,  You  Tex! 

She  began  the  climb,  taking  advantage  of 
every  bit  of  roughness,  of  every  projection  in  the 
almost  sheer  wall.  A  knob  of  feldspar,  a  stunted 
shrub  growing  from  a  crevice,  a  fault  in  the  rock 
structure,  offered  here  and  there  toe-  or  hand- 
holds. She  struggled  upward,  stopped  more  than 
once  by  the  smooth  surface  against  which  her 
soft  warm  body  was  pressing.  On  such  occasions 
she  would  lower  herself  again,  tin*i  to  the  right 
or  the  left,  and  work  toward  another  objective. 

Ramona  knew  that  the  least  slip,  the  slightest 
failure  of  any  one  of  her  muscles,  would  send  her 
plunging  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  crevasse.  The 
worst  of  it  was  that  she  could  not  put  any  de- 
pendence upon  her  injured  leg.  It  might  see  her 
through  or  it  might  not. 

It  was  within  a  few  feet  of  the  top,  just  below 
the  arrowweed  bush,  that  she  came  to  an  im- 
passe. The  cold  wall  offered  no  hand-hold  by 
which  she  could  gain  the  few  inches  that  would 
bring  her  within  reach  of  the  bunched  roots.  She 
undid  her  belt,  threw  one  end  of  it  over  the  body 
of  the  bush,  and  worked  it  carefully  down  until 
she  could  buckle  it.  By  means  of  this  she  went 
up  hand  over  hand  till  she  could  reach  the  arrow- 
weed.  Her  knee  found  support  in  the  loop  of  the 
belt,  and  in  another  moment  she  had  zigzagged 
herself  inch  by  inch  over  the  edge  to  the  flat  sur- 
face above. 

No  sign  of  the  Apaches  was  to  be  seen.  'Mona 


Oh,  You  Tex!  28» 

recovered  her  belt  and  began  to  move  up  the  rock 
spur  toward  the  summit  of  the  hill.  A  sound 
stopped  her  in  her  tracks.  It  was  the  beating  of  a 
tom-tom. 

She  knew  the  Indians  must  be  camped  by  the 
lake.  They  were  probably  having  a  feast  and 
dances.  In  any  case  she  could  not  strike  direct 
for  home.  She  must  keep  on  this  side  of  the  hill, 
make  a  wide  circuit,  and  come  in  from  the  west. 

Already  her  leg  was  paining  her  a  good  deal. 
Since  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  she  had  eaten 
nothing.  Her  throat  was  parched  with  thirst. 
But  these  were  details  that  must  be  forgotten. 
She  had  to  tramp  more  than  twenty  miles  through 
the  desert  regardless  of  her  physical  condition. 

The  girl  went  at  it  doggedly.  She  limped  along, 
getting  wearier  every  mile  of  the  way.  But  it  was 
not  until  she  discovered  that  she  was  lost  to  all 
sense  of  direction  that  she  broke  down  and  wept. 
The  land  here  was  creased  by  swales,  one  so  like 
another  that  in  the  darkness  she  had  gone  astray 
and  did  not  know  north  from  south. 

After  tears  came  renewed  resolution.  She  tried 
to  guide  herself  by  the  stars,  but  though  she 
could  hold  a  straight  course  there  was  no  assur- 
ance in  her  mind  that  she  was  going  toward  the 
A  T  O.  Each  step  might  be  taking  her  farther 
from  home.  A  lime  kiln  burned  in  her  throat.  She 
was  so  worn  out  from  lack  of  food  and  the  tre- 
mendous strain  under  which  she  had  been  carry- 


Oh,  You  Tex! 

ing  on  that  her  knees  buckled  under  her  weight 
as  she  stumbled  through  the  sand.  The  bad  ankle 
complained  continuously. 

In  this  vast  solitude  there  was  something  weird 
and  eerie  that  shook  her  courage.  Nor  was  the 
danger  all  fantastic  imaginings.  The  Indians 
might  yet  discover  her.  She  might  wander  far 
from  beaten  trails  of  travel  and  die  of  thirst  as 
so  many  newcomers  had  done.  Possibilities  of 
disaster  trooped  through  her  mind. 

She  was  still  a  child,  on  the  sunny  side  of  sev- 
enteen. So  it  was  natural  that  when  she  sat  down 
to  rest  her  ankle  she  presently  began  to  sob  again, 
and  that  in  her  exhaustion  she  cried  herself  to 
sleep. 

When  her  eyes  opened,  the  sun  was  peeping 
over  the  desert  horizon.  She  could  tell  directions 
now.  The  A  T  O  ranch  must  be  far  to  the  north- 
east of  where  she  was.  But  scarcely  a  mile  from 
her  ran  a  line  of  straggling  brush.  It  must  be 
watered  by  a  stream.  She  hobbled  forward  pain- 
fully to  relieve  the  thirst  that  was  already  a  tor- 
ment to  her. 

She  breasted  the  rise  of  a  little  hill  and  looked 
down  a  gentle  slope  toward  the  thicket.  For  a 
moment  her  heart  lost  a  beat.  A  trickle  of  smoke 
was  rising  from  a  camp-fire  and  a  man  was  bend- 
ing over  it.  He  was  in  the  clothes  of  a  white  man. 
Simultaneously  there  came  to  her  the  sound  of  a 
shot. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  271 

From  her  parched  throat  there  came  a  bleat- 
ing little  cry.  She  hurried  forward,  and  as  she 
went  she  called  again  and  still  again.  She  was 
pitifully  anxious  lest  the  campers  ride  away  be- 
fore they  should  discover  her. 

A  man  with  a  gun  in  his  hand  moved  toward 
her  from  the  creek.  She  gave  a  little  sobbing  cry 
and  stumbled  toward  him. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

HOMER  DINSMORE  ESCORTS  RAMONA 

*!'M  lost!"  cried  Ramona. 

"Where  from?"  asked  Dinsmore. 

"From  the  A  TO." 

"You're  Clint  Wadley's  daughter,  then?" 

She  nodded.  "We  met  Indians.  I  ...  got 
away." 

The  girl  knelt  beside  the  brook,  put  her  hands 
on  two  stones  that  jutted  up  from  the  water,  and 
drank  till  her  thirst  was  assuaged. 

"I'm  hungry,"  she  said  simply,  after  she  had 
risen. 

He  led  her  back  to  the  camp-fire  and  on  the 
way  picked  up  the  bird  he  had  shot.  'Mona  saw 
that  he  noticed  her  limp,  though  he  said  nothing 
about  it. 

"I  had  an  accident,"  she  explained.  "Fell 
down  a  rock  wall  while  I  was  getting  away  from 
the  Taches." 

"They 're  out  again,  are  they  —  the  devils?" 
He  asked  another  question.  "You  said  'we.'  Who 
was  with  you  when  the  Indians  took  after  you?  " 

"Quint  Sullivan.  I  was  on  the  other  side  of 
Crane  Lake  from  him  and  heard  shots.  I  saw 
Quint  running  for  the  horses  with  the  Taches 
after  him." 


Oh,  You  Tex!  *73 

"  Did  he  get  away  ?  " 

She  shuddered.  "He  reached  the  horses.  They 
rode  after  him.  I  don't  know  whether  .  .  .  ' 
Her  voice  thinned  away. 

The  man  at  the  camp-fire  turned,  and  at 
sight  of  them  dropped  a  sudden,  startled  oath. 

Ramona  looked  at  him,  then  at  Dinsmore.  A 
faint  tremor  passed  through  her  slight  body.  She 
knew  now  who  these  men  were. 

"What 's  she  doin'  here?"  demanded  Gurley. 

"She 's  lost.  The  Taches  are  out,  Steve." 

"Where  are  they?" 

"Up  at  Crane  Lake  last  night." 

"Are  they  headed  this  way?" 

"Don't  know.  She"  —  with  a  jerk  of  his 
thumb  toward  Ramona  —  "bumped  into  'em 
an'  got  away." 

"We'd  better  light  a  shuck  out  o'  here,"  said 
Gurley,  visibly  disturbed. 

"Why?  They  ain't  liable  to  come  this  way 
more  than  any  other.  We'll  have  breakfast  an* 
talk  things  over.  Fix  up  this  bird,  Steve.  Cook  i! 
in  the  skillet.  She 's  hungry." 

Ramona  observed  that  both  the  men  referred  to 
her  as  she  whenever  any  reference  was  made  to  her. 

While  they  ate  breakfast  the  girl  told  the 
story  of  her  experience.  Dinsmore  watched  hei 
with  a  reluctant  admiration.  The  lines  of  her  fig* 
tire  drooped  with  weariness,  but  fatigue  could 
not  blot  out  the  grace  of  her  young  vitality. 


274  Oh,  You  Tex! 

"When  can  we  start  for  home?  "  Ramona  asked 
after  she  had  eaten. 

"For  the  A  T  O?"  asked  the  lank,  sallow  out- 
law brutally.  "What's  ailin'  you?  Think  we're 
goin'  to  take  you  home  with  the  Taches  between 
us  an'  there?  We  ain't  plumb  crazy." 

"But  I  must  get  home  right  away.  My  father 
—  he'll  be  frightened  about  me." 

"Will  he?"  jeered  Gurley.  "If  he  knew  you 
was  in  such  good  company  he'd  be  real  easy  in 
his  mind."  The  man  flashed  a  look  at  her  that 
made  the  girl  burn  with  shame. 

"We  could  go  round  an'  miss  the  Taches," 
suggested  Ramona  timidly. 

"Forget  that  notion,"  answered  Gurley,  and 
there  was  a  flash  of  cruelty  in  his  eyes.  "Mebbe 
you  misremember  that  I  'm  obligated  to  you,  miss, 
for  what  that  condemned  Ranger  Roberts  did  to 
me  when  I  fell  over  the  box  in  front  of  the  store. 
We  '11  settle  accounts  whilst  you  're  here,  I  reckon." 

The  girl  appealed  to  Dinsmore.  "You're  not 
going  to  let  him  .  .  .  mis  treat  me,  are  you?" 

The  pathos  of  her  situation,  the  slim,  helpless, 
wonderful  youth  of  the  girl,  touched  the  not  very 
accessible  heart  of  Dinsmore. 

"You  bet  I'm  not.  He'll  cut  out  that  kind  o' 
talk  right  now,"  he  said. 

The  eyes  of  Ramona  met  his,  and  she  knew  she 
was  safe.  This  man  had  the  respect  for  a  good 
woman  that  was  characteristic  of  the  turbulent 


Oh,  You  Tex!  275 

West  in  its  most  lawless  days.  He  might  be  a  mis- 
creant and  a  murderer,  but  he  would  fight  at  the 
drop  of  a  hat  in  response  to  the  appeal  of  any 
woman  who  was  "straight." 

"Playin'  up  to  Clint,  are  you,  Homer?" 
sneered  the  other  man.  "You  better  take  her 
straight  home  like  she  wants,  since  you're  so 
friendly  to  the  family." 

"That's  exactly  what  I'm  goin'  to  do,"  re- 
torted Dinsmore.  "Any  objections?" 

Gurley  dropped  his  sneer  instantly.  His  alarm 
voiced  itself  in  a  wheedling  apology.  "I  didn't 
go  for  to  rile  you,  Homer.  O'  course  you  cayn't 
do  that.  We  got  to  stick  together.  The  Indians  is 
one  reason.  An'  there 's  another.  No  need  for  me 
to  tell  you  what  it  is." 

"You'll  have  to  wait  for  me  in  the  canon  till 
I  get  back.  It 's  not  far  from  here  to  you-know- 
where.  I'm  goin'  to  take  the  horses  an'  see  this 
girl  back  to  her  home." 

"You're  good,"  Ramona  said  simply. 

"You're  not  figurin'  on  takin'  my  horse,  are 
you?"  Gurley  burst  out  with  an  oath. 

'' You've  done  guessed  it,  Steve.  You'll  have 
to  hoof  it  into  the  canon." 

"Like  hell  I  will.  Take  another  think,  my 
friend." 

The  eyes  of  the  men  clashed,  one  pair  filled 
with  impotent  rage,  the  other  cold  and  hard  as 
polished  steel  on  a  frosty  morning. 


276  Oh,  You  Tex! 

Gurley  yielded  sullenly.  "It's  no  square  deal, 
Homer.  We  did  n't  bring  her  here.  Why  cayn't 
she  go  along  with  us  an'  hole  up  till  the  Taches 
are  gone  an'  till  .  .  .  things  kinda  settle  down?  " 

"Because  she 's  got  no  business  with  folks  like 
us.  Her  place  is  back  at  the  A  T  O,  an'  that's 
where  I  aim  to  take  her.  She 's  had  one  hell  of  a 
time,  if  you  ask  me.  What  that  kid  needs  is  for 
her  home  folks  to  tuck  her  up  in  bed  an'  send  her 
to  sleep.  She's  had  about  all  the  trouble  a  liT 
trick  like  her  can  stand,  I  should  n't  wonder." 

"You  ain't  her  nurse,"  growled  Gurley. 

"That's  why  I'm  goin'  to  take  her  home  to 
those  that  are.  'Nuff  said,  Steve.  What  I  say 
goes." 

"You  act  mighty  high-heeled,"  grumbled  the 
other  man. 

"Mebbeso,"  replied  Dinsmore  curtly.  "Saddle 
the  horses,  Steve." 

"I  dunno  as  I'm  yore  horse-rustler,"  mumbled 
Gurley,  smothering  his  sullen  rage.  None  the  less 
he  rose  slowly  and  shuffled  away  toward  the 
hobbled  horses. 

'Mona  touched  Dinsmore  on  the  sleeve.  Het 
soft  eyes  poured  gratitude  on  him.  "I'll  remem- 
ber this  as  long  as  I  live.  No  matter  what  any- 
body says  I'll  always  know  that  you're  good." 

The  blood  crept  up  beneath  the  tan  of  the  out- 
law's face.  It  had  been  many  years  since  an  in- 
nocent child  had  made  so  naive  a  confession  of 


Oh,  You  Tex!  £77 

faith  in  him.  He  was  a  bad-man,  and  he  knew  it. 
But  at  the  core  of  him  was  a  dynamic  spark  of 
self-respect  that  had  always  remained  alight.  He 
had  ridden  crooked  trails  through  all  his  gusty 
lifetime.  His  hand  had  been  against  every  man's, 
but  at  least  he  had  fought  fair  and  been  loyal  to 
his  pals.  And  there  had  never  been  a  time  when 
a  good  woman  need  be  afraid  to  look  him  in  the 
face. 

"Sho!  Nothin'  to  that.  I  gotta  take  you  home 
so  as  you  won't  be  in  the  way,"  he  told  her  with 
a  touch  of  embarrassed  annoyance. 

No  man  alive  knew  this  country  better  than 
Homer  Dinsmore.  Every  draw  was  like  its  neigh- 
bor, every  rolling  rise  a  replica  of  the  next.  But 
the  outlaw  rode  as  straight  a  course  as  if  his 
road  had  been  marked  out  for  him  by  stakes 
across  the  plains.  He  knew  that  he  might  be 
riding  directly  toward  a  posse  of  Rangers  headed 
for  Palo  Duro  to  round  up  the  stage  robbers.  He 
could  not  help  that.  He  would  have  to  take  his 
chance  of  an  escape  in  case  they  met  such  a  posse. 

The  sun  climbed  high  in  the  heavens. 

"How  far  do  you  think  we  are  now  from  the 
ranch?"  asked  Ramona. 

"Most  twenty  miles.  We've  been  swingin* 
well  to  the  left.  I  reckon  we  can  cut  in  now. " 

They  climbed  at  a  walk  a  little  hill  and  looked 
across  a  wide  sweep  of  country  before  them.  Ra- 
mona gave  a  startled  cry  and  pointed  an  out- 


£78  Oh,  You  Tex! 

stretched  finger  at  some  riders  emerging  from  a 
dry  wash. 

"'Paches!"  cried  Dinsmore.  "Back  over  the 
hill,  girl." 

They  turned,  but  too  late.  On  the  breeze  there 
came  to  them  a  yell  that  sent  the  blood  from 
'Mona's  heart. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

ON  A  HOT  TRAIL 

ROBERTS  picked  up  from  the  fort  a  Mescalero 
Apache  famous  as  a  trailer.  He  reckoned  to  be 
rather  expert  in  that  line  himself,  but  few  white 
men  could  boast  of  such  skill  as  old  Guadaloupe 
had. 

Jumbo  Wilkins  was  one  of  the  posse  Jack  had 
hastily  gathered.  "I'm  good  an'  glad  I  was  in 
town  an'  not  out  herdin'  vacas,  Tex.  A  fellow 
kinda  needs  a  little  excitement  oncet  in  a  while. 
I  got  a  hunch  we  're  goin'  to  git  these  birds  this 
time." 

"You're  the  greatest  little  optimist  I  ever  did 
see,  Jumbo,"  answered  the  Ranger  with  a  smile. 
"We're  goin'  to  strike  a  cold  trail  of  men  who 
know  every  inch  of  this  country  an'  are  ridin' 
hell-for-leather  to  make  a  get-away.  We're  liable 
to  ride  our  broncs  to  shadows  an'  never  see  hair 
or  hide  of  the  fellows  we  want.  I  'd  like  to  know 
what  license  you  've  got  for  yore  hunch." 

"You're  such  a  lucky  guy,  Tex.  If  you  was 
lookin'  for  a  needle  in  a  haystack  you'd  find  it 
in  yore  mouth  when  you  picked  up  a  straw  to 
chew  on." 

"Lucky,  no  thin'.  A  man  makes  his  own  luck, 
I  always  did  tell  you,  an'  I  have  n't  bumped  inte 


280  Oh,  You  Tex! 

any  yet.  You  don't  see  any  big  bunch  of  fat  cows 
with  my  brand  on  'em,  do  you?  I'm  pluggin' 
along  for  a  dollar  a  day  with  a  promise  from  Cap 
Ellison  that  I'll  probably  cash  in  soon  with  my 
boots  on.  Old  Man  Luck  always  hides  behind  the 
door  when  I  pass,  if  there 's  any  such  Santa  Glaus 
in  the  business." 

"All  the  way  you  look  at  it.  Didn't  Clint 
Wadley  offer  you  the  job  of  bossin'  the  best  cow- 
ranch  in  the  Panhandle?  " 

"An'  did  n't  I  have  to  turn  down  his  offer  an* 
hang  on  to  a  dollar-a-day  job? " 

"Then  you  saved  Miss  'Mona  from  that  bull 
an'  made  a  friend  of  her." 

"Yes,  an'  then  I  butted  in  an'  kept  the  Kiowas 
from  mussin'  up  Art  Ridley,  who  is  liable  to  ask 
me  to  stand  up  with  him  when  he  marries  Miss 
Ramona,"  added  the  Ranger. 

"Shucks!  She'll  never  marry  Ridley  so  long  as 
you're  runnin'  around  unbranded,  son." 

"A  lot  you  know  about  girls,  Jumbo,"  said 
Roberts  with  a  rueful  grin.  "I  don't  know  sic* 
'em  about  the  things  they  like.  I'm  one  chapar- 
ral-raised roughneck.  That  little  lady  never 
wasted  two  thoughts  on  me.  But  Art  —  he  knows 
a  lot  about  books  an'  style  an'  New  York's  four 
hundred.  He 's  good  to  look  at,  clean,  knows  how 
to  talk,  an'  makes  a  sure-enough  hit  with  the  girls." 

"He's  a  sissy  boy  beside  you.  No  Texas  girl 
would  look  twice  — " 


Oh,  You  Tex! 

"Nothin'  a-tall  to  that.  Did  n't  he  save  Clint 
Wadley's  life?  Did  n't  he  stay  by  Dinsmore  when 
the  Kiowas  had  'em  holed?  He  fought  good 
enough  to  get  shot  up  this  mo'nin',  didn't  he? 
No,  sir.  You'll  find  he's  got  me  backed  off  the 
map  so  far  as  Miss  Ramona  goes.  I  know  it,  old- 
timer." 

"  Where  do  you  get  that  notion  you  're  a  rough- 
neck, Tex?"  asked  Jumbo.  "You've  read  more 
books  than  any  man  on  the  range.  You  don't  hell 
around  like  most  of  the  boys.  You  don't  drink. 
Mebbe  you  ain't  exactly  pretty,  but  yore  face 
doesn't  scare  critters  when  they  see  it  onex- 
pected.  An'  when  the  band  begins  to  play  — 
Gentlemen,  watch  Tex." 

"If  the  girls  would  only  let  you  do  the  pickin' 
for  'em,  Jumbo,"  suggested  Roberts  with  his 
sardonic  smile. 

Through  rabbit  weed  and  curly  mesquite, 
among  the  catclaw  and  the  prickly  pear,  they 
followed  the  faint  ribbon  trail  left  by  the  out- 
laws in  their  retreat  from  the  scene  of  the  hold-up. 

When  it  was  too  late  to  cut  sign  any  longer, 
the  Ranger  gave  orders  to  throw  in  to  a  small 
draw  where  the  grass  was  good.  At  daybreak  they 
were  on  the  trail  again  and  came  within  the  hour 
to  the  body  of  Overstreet.  They  dug  a  grave  in  a 
buffalo  run  with  their  knives  and  buried  the  body 
as  well  as  they  could  before  they  picked  up  again 
the  tracks  of  two  horses  now  traveling  much  faster. 


Oh,  You  Tex! 

"They're  headin'  for  Palo  Duro,  looks  like," 
commented  Roberts. 

"Looks  like,"  agreed  his  friend. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  the  posse  reached  the 
little  creek  where  the  outlaws  had  breakfasted. 
Old  Guadaloupe  criss-crossed  the  ground  like  a 
bloodhound  as  he  read  what  was  written  there. 
But  before  he  made  any  report  Roberts  himself 
knew  that  a  third  person  had  joined  the  fugitives 
and  that  this  recruit  was  a  woman.  The  Ranger 
followed  the  Apache  upstream,  guessed  by  some 
feathers  and  some  drops  of  blood  that  one  of  the 
outlaws  had  shot  a  prairie-hen,  and  read  some 
hint  of  the  story  of  the  meeting  between  the 
woman  and  the  bandit. 

Was  this  woman  some  one  who  had  been  living 
in  Palo  Duro  Canon  with  the  outlaws?  Or  was 
this  meeting  an  accidental  one?  The  odd  thing 
about  it  was  that  there  was  no  sign  of  her  horse. 
She  had  come  on  foot,  in  a  country  where  no- 
body ever  travels  that  way. 

Roberts  told  Guadaloupe  to  find  out  where  the 
party  had  gone  from  the  camp.  He  himself  fol- 
lowed into^the  desert  the  footsteps  of  the  woman 
who  had  come  across  it  toward  the  creek.  He  was 
puzzled  and  a  little  disturbed  in  mind.  She  had 
not  come  from  the  canon.  What  was  a  woman 
doing  alone  and  on  foot  in  this  desert  empty  of 
human  life  for  fifty  miles  or  more? 

He  found  no  answer  to  his  questions  and  re- 


Oh,  You  Tex!  283 

luctantly  returned  to  the  camp-fire.  Guadaloupe 
was  ready  with  his  report.  One  man  had  started 
out  on  foot  along  the  edge  of  the  canon.  The  other 
man  and  the  woman  had  struck  on  horseback 
across  the  plain. 

"We'll  follow  those  on  horseback,"  decided  the 
Ranger  at  once.  He  could  not  have  told  why  the 
urgent  impulse  was  on  him  to  do  this,  nor  why 
he  did  not  split  his  party  and  send  part  of  his  men 
in  pursuit  of  the  foot  traveler.  Later  he  laid  it  to 
what  Jumbo  would  have  called  a  hunch. 

He  was  puzzled  by  the  direction  the  two  riders 
were  taking.  It  led  neither  to  the  A  T  O  nor  to 
Tascosa,  and  was  making  no  account  of  the 
streams  where  the  travelers  would  have  to  find 
water.  They  seemed  to  be  plunging  ignorantly 
into  the  desert,  but  since  Gurley  or  Dinsmore 
was  one  of  the  two  this  could  not  be.  Either  of 
these  men  could  have  traveled  the  Panhandle 
blindfolded. 

They  followed  the  tracks  for  hours.  The  line 
of  travel  was  so  direct  that  it  told  of  purpose. 
Dinsmore  —  if  the  man  were  Dinsmore  —  evi- 
dently knew  just  what  he  was  doing.  Then,  ab- 
ruptly, the  tracks  pointed  to  the  right,  straight 
for  the  A  T  O. 

But  not  for  long.  At  the  summit  of  a  little  rise 
the  riders  had  plainly  stopped  for  a  few  moments, 
then  had  turned  and  galloped  fast  for  the  south- 
west. The  lengthening  tracks,  the  sharpness  of 


£84  Oh,  You  Tex! 

them,  the  carelessness  with  which  the  riders  took 
the  rougher  ground  to  follow  a  straight  line,  all 
suggested  an  urgent  and  imperative  reason. 

That  reason  became  plain  to  Roberts  in  another 
minute.  A  great  number  of  tracks  swept  in  from 
the  left  and  blotted  out  those  of  the  two  flying 
riders. 

"Chiricahua  Apaches,"  grunted  Guadaloupe. 
The  scout  had  a  feud  with  that  branch  of  the 
tribe  and  was  at  war  with  them. 

"How  many?"  questioned  Jack. 

The  Indian  held  up  the  fingers  of  both  hands, 
closed  them,  opened  them,  and  a  third  time  shut 
and  lifted  the  fingers. 

"Thirty?"  asked  the  Ranger. 

The  Apache  nodded. 

"Dinsmore  's  makin'  for  Palo  Duro,"  remarked 
Wilkins  as  they  followed  at  a  canter  the  plain 
trail  marked  for  them.  "I'll  bet  he  don't  throw 
down  on  himself  none  on  that  race  either.  He's 
sure  hell-bent  on  gettin'  there." 

One  of  the  riders  called  to  the  Rangers.  "Look 
over  to  the  left,  Tex.  We  got  company." 

A  little  group  of  riders  —  three,  four,  five  of 
them  —  emerged  from  behind  a  clump  of  Spanish 
bayonet  and  signaled  with  a  bandana  handker- 
chief. As  they  rode  closer  the  heart  of  the  Ranger 
died  under  his  ribs.  His  stomach  muscles  tight- 
ened, and  he  felt  a  prickling  of  the  skin  run  down 
his  back.  For  Clint  Wadley  rode  at  the  head  of 


Oh,  You  Tex!  285 

these  men,  and  like  a  flash  of  lightning  the  truth 
had  seared  across  the  brain  of  Jack  Roberts.  His 
daughter  was  the  woman  riding  to  escape  from 
the  savages. 

The  face  of  Wadley  confirmed  the  guess  of  the 
Ranger.  On  the  unshaven  face  of  the  cattleman 
dust  was  caked.  His  eyes  were  red  and  inflamed 
from  the  alkali  and  the  tears  he  had  fought  back 
fifty  times.  The  expression  of  the  man  was  that 
of  one  passing  through  the  torments  of  hell. 

In  five  broken  sentences  he  told  his  story. 
Quint  Sullivan,  escaping  from  his  pursuers  after 
a  thirty -mile  run,  had  reached  the  ranch  in  the 
middle  of  the  night.  Clint  had  gathered  together 
such  men  as  were  at  hand  and  started  at  once.  At 
Crane  Lake  he  had  found  no  trace  of  her.  He  could 
not  escape  the  conviction  that  the  Apaches  had 
captured  Ramona  and  taken  her  with  them. 

On  this  last  point  the  Ranger  offered  him  com- 
fort, though  it  was  sorry  comfort  at  that.  Five 
hours  ago  she  was  still  safe,  but  in  terrible  danger. 

"  Dinsmore  's  a  man  —  none  gamer  in  Texas, 
Mr.  Wadley.  He  won't  desert  her,"  said  Jumbo. 
"You  could  n't  'a'  picked  a  better  man  to  look 
out  for  her." 

"  How  do  you  know  it 's  Dinsmore?  Perhaps  it  *s 
that  yellow  wolf  Gurley,"  answered  the  father 
out  of  his  tortured  heart. 

Jack  was  riding  on  the  other  side  of  Wadley. 
He,  too,  carried  with  him  a  private  hell  of  feaar 


£86  Oh,  You  Tex! 

in  his  heart,  but  he  knew  that  the  big  cattlemaa 
was  nearly  insane  with  anxiety. 

"Because  the  man  with  Miss  Ramona  was 
takin'  her  back  to  the  ranch  when  they  bumped 
into  the  Taches.  You  know  Steve  Gurley  would 
never  have  taken  her  home  in  the  world,"  re- 
plied the  Ranger. 

"What  can  one  man  do  against  thirty?  He'll 
do  what  Quint  here  did  —  run  to  save  his  own 
hide." 

Young  Sullivan  winced.  It  was  the  truth.  He 
had  run  and  left  the  girl  to  the  mercy  of  these 
devils.  But  his  one  chance  of  helping  her  had  been 
to  run.  He  tried  to  say  as  much. 

"I  know  that,  Quint.  I'm  not  blamin'  you," 
broke  out  the  father  in  his  agony.  "But  my  little 
lamb  —  in  the  hands  of  'Paches  —  God!"  Wad- 
ley  covered  his  eyes  with  his  hand  and  tried  to 
press  back  from  his  brain  the  horrible  visions  he 
kept  seeing. 

Jumbo  stuck  to  his  one  valid  point. "  Bite  yore 
teeth  into  this,  Clint.  She 's  got  ridin'  beside  her 
as  game  a  man  as  ever  threw  his  leg  over  leather. 
He  knows  this  country  like  you  do  yore  ranch. 
He'll  hole  up  in  Palo  Duro  where  the  'Paches 
won't  find  'em,  an'  if  the  devils  do  he'll  sure 
stand  'em  off  till  we  blow  in." 

His  friend  on  the  other  side  of  the  cattleman 
backed  him  up  strongly,  but  the  heart  of  the  Ran- 
ger was  heavy  with  dread. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

DINSMORE  TO  THE  RESCUE 

IF  'Mona  lives  to  be  eighty  the  high-lights  of 
that  wild  ride  will  never  fade  from  her  memory. 
The  mesas  rolled  in  long  swells  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  see.  Through  the  chaparral  the  galloping 
horses  plunged  while  the  prickly  pear  and  the 
cholla  clutched  at  their  flanks  and  at  the  legs  of 
the  riders.  Into  water-gutted  arroyos  they  de- 
scended, slid  down  breakneck  shale  ridges,  climbed 
like  heather  cats  the  banks  of  dry  washes,  pounded 
over  white  porous  malpais  on  which  no  vegeta- 
tion grew. 

Now  Dinsmore  was  in  front  of  her  picking  out 
the  best  way,  now  he  was  beside  her  with  cool, 
easy  words  of  confidence,  now  he  rode  between 
her  and  the  naked  Apaches,  firing  with  deliber- 
ate and  deadly  accuracy. 

"Don't  look  back,"  he  warned  her  more  than 
once.  "My  job  is  to  look  out  for  them.  Yours  is 
to  see  yore  horse  don't  throw  you  or  break  a  leg 
in  a  prairie-dog  hole.  They  cayn't  outrun  us. 
Don't  worry  about  that." 

The  man  was  so  easy  in  manner,  apparently 
so  equal  to  the  occasion,  that  as  the  miles  slid 
behind  them  her  panic  vanished.  She  felt  for  the 
small  revolver  hi  her  belt  to  make  sure  it  was  safe. 


£88  Oh,  You  Tex! 

If  she  should  be  thrown,  or  if  her  horse  should 
be  shot,  one  thing  must  be  done  instantly.  She 
must  send  a  bullet  crashing  into  her  brain. 

To  the  right  and  to  the  left  of  her  jets  of  dirt 
spat  up  where  the  shots  of  the  Indians  struck  the 
ground.  Once  or  twice  she  looked  back,  but  the 
sight  of  the  bareback  riders  at  their  heels  so  un- 
nerved her  that  she  obeyed  the  orders  of  her  com- 
panion and  resisted  the  dreadful  fascination  of 
turning  in  her  saddle. 

It  had  seemed  to  'Mona  at  first  with  each 
backward  glance  that  the  Indians  were  gaining 
fast  on  them,  but  after  a  time  she  knew  this  was 
not  true.  The  sound  of  their  shots  became  fainter. 
She  no  longer  saw  the  spitting  of  the  dust  from 
their  bullets  and  guessed  they  must  be  falling 
short. 

Her  eyes  flashed  a  question  at  the  man  riding 
beside  her.  "We're  gaining?" 

"That's  whatever.  We'll  make  the  canon  all 
right  an'  keep  goin'.  Don't  you  be  scared,"  he 
told  her  cheerfully. 

Even  as  he  spoke,  Ramona  went  plunging  over 
the  head  of  her  horse  into  a  bunch  of  shin-oak. 
Up  in  an  instant,  she  ran  to  remount.  The  bronco 
tried  to  rise  from  where  it  lay,  but  fell  back  help- 
lessly to  its  side.  One  of  its  fore  legs  had  been 
broken  in  a  prairie-dog  hole. 

Dinsmore  swung  round  his  horse  and  gal- 
loped back,  disengaging  one  foot  from  the  sth* 


Oh,  You  Tex!  289 

nip.  The  girl  caught  the  hand  he  held  down  t® 
her  and  leaped  up  beside  the  saddle,  the  arch  of 
her  foot  resting  lightly  on  the  toe  of  his  boot.  Al- 
most with  the  same  motion  she  swung  astride  the 
cow-pony.  It  jumped  to  a  gallop  and  Ramona 
clung  to  the  waist  of  the  man  in  front  of  her.  She 
could  hear  plainly  now  the  yells  of  the  exultant 
savages. 

The  outlaw  knew  that  it  would  be  nip  and  tuck 
to  reach  Palo  Duro,  close  though  it  was.  He  aban- 
doned at  once  his  hopes  of  racing  up  the  canon 
until  the  Apaches  dropped  the  pursuit.  It  was 
now  solely  a  question  of  speed.  He  must  get  into 
the  gulch,  even  though  he  had  to  kill  his  bronco 
to  do  it.  After  that  he  must  trust  to  luck  and  hold 
the  redskins  off  as  long  as  he  could.  There  was 
always  a  chance  that  Ellison's  Rangers  might 
be  close.  Homer  Dinsmore  knew  how  slender  a 
thread  it  was  upon  which  to  hang  a  hope,  but  it 
was  the  only  one  they  had. 

His  quirt  rose  and  fell  once,  though  he  recog- 
nized that  his  horse  was  doing  its  best.  But  the 
lash  fell  in  the  air  and  did  not  burn  the  flank  of 
the  animal.  He  patted  its  neck.  He  murmured 
encouragement  in  its  ear. 

"  Good  old  Black  Jack,  I  knew  you  would  n't 
throw  down  on  me.  Keep  a-humpin',  old-timer. 
.  .  .  You're  doin'  fine.  .  .  .  Here  we  are  at 
Palo  Duro.  .  .  .  Another  half-mile,  pal." 

Dinsmore  turned  to  the  left  after  they  had 


290  Oh,  You  Tex! 

dropped  down  a  shale  slide  into  the  canon.  The 
trail  wound  through  a  thick  growth  of  young  foli- 
age close  to  the  bed  of  the  stream. 

The  man  slipped  down  from  the  back  of  the 
laboring  horse  and  followed  it  up  the  trail.  Once 
he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  savages  coming 'down 
the  shale  slide  and  took  a  shot  through  the  brush. 

"Got  one  of  their  horses,"  he  told  'Mona. 
"That'll  keep  'em  for  a  while  and  give  us  a  few 
minutes.  They'll  figure  I'll  try  to  hold  'em  here." 

'Mona  let  the  horse  pick  its  way  up  the  rapidly 
ascending  trail.  Presently  the  canon  opened  a 
little.  Its  walls  fell  back  from  a  small,  grassy  val- 
ley containing  two  or  three  acres.  The  trail  led 
up  a  ledge  of  rock  jutting  out  from  one  of  the 
sheer  faces  of  cliff.  Presently  it  dipped  down  be- 
hind some  great  boulders  that  had  fallen  from 
above  some  time  in  the  ages  that  this  great  cleft 
had  been  in  the  making. 

A  voice  hailed  them.  "That  you,  Homer?" 

"Yep.  The  'Paches  are  right  on  our  heels, 
Steve." 

Gurley  let  out  a  wailing  oath.  "  Goddlemighty, 
man,  why  did  you  come  here?" 

"Driven  in.  They  chased  us  ten  miles.  Better 
'light,  ma'am.  We're  liable  to  stay  here  quite  a 
spell."  Dinsmore  unsaddled  the  horse  and  tied 
it  to  a  shrub.  "You're  sure  all  in,  Black  Jack. 
Mebbe  you  '11  never  be  the  same  bronc  again.  I  've 
got  this  to  say,  old  pal.  I  never  straddled  a  better 


Oh,  You  Tex!  291 

hawss  than  you.  That  goes  without  copperin'." 
He  patted  its  sweat-stained  neck,  fondled  its 
nose  for  a  moment,  then  turned  briskly  to  the 
business  in  hand.  "Get  behind  that  p'int  o'  rocks, 
Steve.  I'll  cover  the  trail  up.  Girl,  you'll  find  a 
kind  of  cave  under  that  flat  boulder.  You  get  in 
there  an'  hunt  cover." 

'Mona  did  as  she  was  told.  Inside  the  cave  were 
blankets,  a  saddle,  the  remains  of  an  old  camp- 
fire,  and  a  piece  of  jerked  venison  hanging  from 
a  peg  driven  between  two  rocks.  There  were,  too, 
a  rifle  leaning  against  the  big  boulder  and  a  can- 
vas bag  containing  ammunition. 

The  rifle  was  a  '73.  She  busied  herself  loading 
it.  Just  as  she  finished  there  came  to  her  the  crack 
of  Dinsmore's  repeater. 

The  outlaw  gave  a  little  whoop  of  exultation. 

"Tally  one." 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

A  CRY  OUT  OF  THE  NIGHT 

NIGHT  fell  before  the  rescue  party  reached  Palo 
Dunx  The  canon  was  at  that  time  a  terra  incognita 
to  these  cattlemen  of  the  Panhandle.  To  attempt 
to  explore  it  in  the  darkness  would  be  to  court 
disaster.  The  Apaches  might  trap  the  whole  party. 

But  neither  the  Ranger  nor  Wadley  could  en- 
dure the  thought  of  waiting  till  morning  to  push 
forward.  The  anxiety  that  weighed  on  them  both 
could  find  relief  only  in  action. 

Jack  made  a  proposal  to  Ramona's  father. 
"We've  got  to  throw  off  and  camp  here.  No  two 
ways  about  that.  But  I'm  goin'  to  ride  forward 
to  Palo  Duro  an'  see  what  I  can  find  out.  Want 
to  go  along?" 

"Boy,  I  had  in  mind  that  very  thing.  We'll 
leave  Jumbo  in  charge  of  the  camp  with  orders 
to  get  started  soon  as  he  can  see  in  the  mo'nin'." 

The  two  men  rode  into  the  darkness.  They  knew 
the  general  direction  of  Palo  Duro  and  were  both 
plainsmen  enough  to  follow  a  straight  course  even 
in  the  blackest  night.  They  traveled  at  a  fast 
road  gait,  letting  the  horses  pick  their  own  way 
through  the  mesquite.  Presently  a  star  came  out 
—  and  another.  Banked  clouds  scudded  across 
the  sky  in  squadrons. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  £93 

At  last,  below  their  feet,  lay  the  great  earth 
rift  that  made  Palo  Duro.  It  stretched  before 
them  an  impenetrable  black  gulf  of  silence. 

"No  use  trying  to  go  down  at  random,"  said 
Jack,  peering  into  its  bottomless  deeps.  "Even 
if  we  did  n't  break  our  necks  we'd  get  lost  down 
there.  My  notion  is  for  me  to  follow  the  bank 
in  one  direction  an'  for  you  to  take  the  other. 
We  might  hear  something." 

"Sounds  reasonable,"  agreed  Wadley. 

The  cattleman  turned  to  the  left,  the  Ranger 
to  the  right.  Roberts  rode  at  a  slow  trot,  stopping 
every  few  minutes  to  listen  for  any  noise  that 
might  rise  from  the  gulch. 

His  mind  was  full  of  pictures  of  the  girl,  one 
following  another  inconsequently.  They  stabbed 
him  poignantly.  He  had  a  white  dream  of  her 
moving  down  the  street  at  Tascosa  with  step 
elastic,  the  sun  sparkling  in  her  soft,  wavy  hair. 
Another  memory  jumped  to  the  fore  of  her  on 
the  stage,  avoiding  with  shy  distress  the  advances 
of  the  salesman  he  had  jolted  into  his  place.  He 
saw  her  grave  and  gay,  sweet  and  candid  and 
sincere,  but  always  just  emerging  with  innocent 
radiance  from  the  chrysalis  of  childhood. 

Her  presence  was  so  near,  she  was  so  inti- 
mately close,  that  more  than  once  he  pulled  up 
under  an  impression  that  she  was  calling  him. 

It  was  while  he  was  waiting  so,  his  weight  rest- 
ing easily  in  the  saddle,  that  out  of  the  night  there 


294  Oh,  You  Tex! 

came  to  him  a  faint,  far-away  cry  of  dreadful 
agony.  The  sound  of  it  shook  Jack  to  the  soul. 
Cold  beads  of  perspiration  stood  out  on  his  fore- 
head. Gooseflesh  ran  down  his  spine.  His  hand 
trembled.  The  heart  inside  his  ribs  was  a  heavy 
weight  of  ice.  Though  he  had  never  heard  it  be- 
fore, the  Ranger  knew  that  awful  cry  for  the 
scream  of  a  man  in  torment.  The  Apaches  were 
torturing  a  captured  prisoner. 

If  Dinsmore  had  been  captured  by  them  the 
chances  were  that  'Mona  had  been  taken,  too, 
unless  he  had  given  her  the  horse  and  remained 
to  hold  the  savages  back. 

Roberts  galloped  wildly  along  the  edge  of  the 
rift.  Once  again  he  heard  that  long-drawn  wail  of 
anguish  and  pulled  up  his  horse  to  listen,  the 
while  he  shook  like  a  man  with  a  heavy  chill. 

Before  the  sound  of  it  had  died  away  a  shot 
echoed  up  the  canon  to  him.  His  heart  seemed  to 
give  an  answering  lift  of  relief.  Some  one  was  still 
holding  the  Apaches  at  bay.  He  fired  at  once  as  a 
message  that  help  was  on  the  way. 

His  trained  ear  told  him  that  the  rifle  had  been 
fired  scarcely  a  hundred  yards  below  him,  appar- 
ently from  some  ledge  of  the  cliff  well  up  from 
the  bottom  of  the  gulch.  It  might  have  come 
from  the  defenders  or  it  might  have  been  a  shot 
fired  by  an  Apache.  Jack  determined  to  find  out. 

He  unfastened  the  tientos  of  his  saddle  which 
held  the  lariat.  A  scrub  oak  jutted  up  from  the 


Oh,  You  Tex!  295 

edge  of  the  cliff  and  to  this  he  tied  securely  one 
end  of  the  rope.  Rifle  in  hand,  he  worked  over  the 
edge  and  lowered  himself  foot  by  foot.  The  rope 
spun  round  like  a  thing  alive,  bumped  him  against 
the  rock  wall,  twisted  in  the  other  direction,  and 
rubbed  his  face  against  the  harsh  stone.  He  had 
no  assurance  that  the  lariat  would  reach  to  the 
foot  of  the  cliff,  and  as  he  went  jerkily  down, 
hand  under  hand,  he  knew  that  at  any  moment 
he  might  come  to  the  end  of  it  and  be  dashed 
against  the  boulders  below. 

His  foot  touched  loose  rubble,  and  he  could 
see  that  the  face  of  the  precipice  was  rooted  here 
in  a  slope  that  led  down  steeply  to  another  wall. 
The  ledge  was  like  a  roof  pitched  at  an  extremely 
acute  angle.  He  had  to  get  down  on  hands  and 
knees  to  keep  from  sliding  to  the  edge  of  the  sec- 
ond precipice.  At  every  movement  he  started 
small  avalanches  of  stone  and  dirt.  He  crept  for- 
ward with  the  utmost  caution,  dragging  the  rifle 
by  his  side. 

A  shot  rang  out  scarcely  fifty  yards  from  him, 
fired  from  the  same  ledge  upon  which  he  was 
crawling. 

Had  that  shot  been  fired  by  an  Apache  or  by 
those  whom  he  had  come  to  aid? 


CHAPTER  XL 

GURLEY'S  GET-AWAY 

THE  boulder  cave  to  which  the  Apaches  had 
driven  Dinsmore  and  Ramona  had  long  since  been 
picked  out  by  the  outlaws  as  a  defensible  posi- 
tion in  case  of  need.  The  ledge  that  ran  up  to  it 
on  the  right  offered  no  cover  for  attackers.  It  was 
scarcely  three  feet  wide,  and  above  and  below  it 
the  wall  was  for  practical  purposes  perpendicular. 
In  anticipation  of  a  day  when  his  gang  might  be 
rounded  up  by  a  posse,  Pete  Dinsmore  had  gone 
over  the  path  and  flung  down  into  the  gulch 
every  bit  of  quartz  big  enough  to  shelter  a  man. 

The  contour  of  the  rock  face  back  of  the  big 
boulders  was  concave,  so  that  the  defenders  were 
protected  from  sharpshooters  at  the  edge  of  the 
precipice  above. 

Another  way  led  up  from  the  bed  of  the  creek 
by  means  of  a  very  rough  and  broken  climb  ter- 
minating in  the  loose  rubble  about  the  point 
where  the  ledge  ran  out.  This  Dinsmore  had  set 
Gurley  to  watch,  but  it  was  not  likely  that  the 
Indians  would  reach  here  for  several  hours  a 
point  dangerous  to  the  attacked. 

Of  what  happened  that  day  Ramona  saw  little. 
She  loaded  rifles  and  pushed  them  out  to  Dins- 
more  from  the  safety  of  the  cave.  Once  he  had 


Oh,  You  Tex! 

shouted  out  to  her  or  to  Gurley  news  of  a  second 
successful  shot. 

"One  more  good  Indian.  Hi-yi-yi!"  The  last 
was  a  taunt  to  the  Apaches  hidden  below. 

There  came  a  time  late  in  the  afternoon  when 
the  serious  attack  of  the  redskins  developed.  It 
came  from  the  left,  and  it  was  soon  plain  that  a 
number  of  Apaches  had  found  cover  in  the  rough 
boulder  bed  halfway  up  from  the  creek.  Ramona 
took  Dinsmore's  place  as  guard  over  the  path- 
way while  he  moved  across  to  help  Gurley  rout 
the  sharpshooters  slowly  edging  forward. 

One  hour  of  sharp  work  did  it.  Man  for  man 
there  never  was  any  comparison  between  the  In- 
dians and  the  early  settlers  as  fighting  men.  Dins- 
more  and  Gurley,  both  good  shots,  better  armed 
and  better  trained  than  the  Apaches,  drove  the 
bucks  back  from  the  boulder  bed  where  they  were 
deployed.  One  certainly  was  killed,  another  prob- 
ably. As  quickly  as  they  could  with  safety  dis- 
engage themselves  the  braves  drew  down  into 
the  shelter  of  the  brush  below. 

But  Dinsmore  knew  that  the  temporary  vic- 
tory achieved  could  not  affect  the  end  of  this 
one-sided  battle.  The  Apaches  would  wipe  all 
three  of  them  out  —  unless  by  some  miracle  help 
reached  them  from  outside.  Ramona,  too,  knew 
it.  So  did  Gurley. 

As  the  darkness  fell  the  fingers  of  'Mona  crept 
often  to  the  little  revolver  by  her  side.  Sometime 


298  Oh,  You  Tex! 

soon  —  perhaps  in  three  hours,  perhaps  in  twelve, 
perhaps  in  twenty-four  —  she  must  send  a  bullet 
into  her  brain.  She  decided  quite  calmly  that  she 
would  do  it  at  the  last  possible  moment  that  would 
admit  of  certainty.  She  must  not  make  any  mis- 
take, must  not  wait  till  it  was  too  late.  It  would 
be  a  horrible  thing  to  do,  but  —  she  must  not 
fall  alive  into  the  hands  of  the  Apaches. 

Crouched  behind  his  boulder  in  the  darkness, 
Gurley  too  knew  that  the  party  was  facing  ex- 
tinction. He  could  not  save  the  others  by  staying. 
Was  it  possible  to  save  himself  by  going?  He  knew 
that  rough  climb  down  through  the  boulder  beds 
to  the  canon  below.  The  night  was  black  as 
Egypt.  Surely  it  would  be  possible,  if  he  kept 
well  to  the  left,  to  dodge  any  sentries  the  Indians 
might  have  set. 

He  moistened  his  dry  lips  with  his  tongue.  Fur- 
tively he  glanced  back  toward  the  cave  where 
the  girl  was  hidden.  She  could  not  see  him.  Nor 
could  Dinsmore.  They  would  know  nothing 
about  it  till  long  after  he  had  gone.  Their  stupid- 
ity had  brought  the  Apaches  upon  them.  If  they 
had  taken  his  advice  the  savages  would  have 
missed  them  by  ten  miles.  Why  should  he  let 
their  folly  destroy  him  too?  If  he  escaped  he 
might  meet  some  freight  outfit  and  send  help  to 
them. 

The  man  edged  out  from  his  rock,  crept  noise- 
lessly into  the  night.  He  crawled  along  the  steep 


Oh,  You  Tex!  299 

rubble  slide,  wary  and  soft-footed  as  a  panther. 
It  took  him  a  long  half -hour  to  reach  the  boulder 
bed.  Rifle  in  hand,  he  lowered  himself  from  rock 
to  rock,  taking  advantage  of  every  shadow.  .  .  . 

An  hour  later  Dinsmore  called  to  'Mona. 
"Asleep,  girl?" 

"No,"  she  answered  in  a  small  voice. 

"Slip  out  with  these  cartridges  to  Steve  and 
find  out  if  anythin's  doin'.  Then  you'd  better 
try  to  sleep.  Taches  don't  attack  at  night." 

Ramona  crept  along  the  ledge  back  of  the 
big  boulders.  Gurley  had  gone  —  vanished  com- 
pletely. Her  heart  stood  still.  There  was  some 
vague  thought  in  her  mind  that  the  Indians  had 
somehow  disposed  of  him.  She  called  to  Dinsmore 
in  a  little  stifled  shout  that  brought  him  on  the 
run. 

"He's  gone!"  she  gasped. 

The  eyes  of  Dinsmore  blazed.  He  knew  ex- 
actly how  to  account  for  the  absence  of  the  man. 
"I  might  'a'  known  it.  The  yellow  coyote!  Left 
us  in  the  lurch  to  save  his  own  hide ! " 

"Perhaps  he's  gone  for  help,"  the  girl  sug- 
gested faintly. 

"  No  chance.  He 's  playin'  a  lone  hand  —  tryin' 
for  a  get-away  himself,"  her  companion  said  bit- 
terly. "You'll  have  to  take  his  place  here.  If  you 
see  anything  move,  no  matter  what  it  is,  shoot 
at  it." 

"If  I  call  you  will  you  come?"  she  begged. 


300  Oh,  You  Tex! 

"On  the  jump,"  he  promised.  "Don't  go  to 
sleep.  If  they  should  come  it  will  be  up  through 
the  boulder  bed.  I'm  leavin'  you  here  because 
you  can  watch  from  cover  where  you  can't  pos- 
sibly be  seen.  It 's  different  on  the  other  side." 

She  knew  that,  but  as  soon  as  he  had  left  her 
the  heart  of  the  girl  sank.  She  was  alone,  lost  in 
a  night  of  howling  savages.  The  horrible  things 
they  did  to  their  captives  —  she  recalled  a  story 
whispered  to  her  by  a  girl  friend  that  it  had  been 
impossible  to  shake  out  of  her  mind.  In  the  mid- 
dle of  the  night  she  had  more  than  once  found 
herself  sitting  bolt  upright  in  bed,  wakened  from 
terrible  dreams  of  herself  as  a  prisoner  of  the 
Apaches. 

'Mona  prayed,  and  found  some  comfort  in  her 
prayers.  They  were  the  frank,  selfish  petitions 
of  a  little  child. 

"God,  don't  let  me  die.  I'm  so  young,  and 
so  frightened.  Send  Daddy  to  save  me  ...  or 
Jack  Roberts." 

She  recited  the  twenty-third  Psalm  aloud  in  a 
low  voice.  The  fourth  verse  she  went  back  to,  re- 
peating it  several  times. 

"'Yea,  though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of 
the  shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil;  for  thou 
art  with  me;  thy  rod  and  thy  staff  they  comfort 


me.' 


And  the  last  verse: 

"'Surely  goodness  and  mercy  shall  follow  me 


Oh,  You  Tex!  801 

all  the  days  of  my  life:  and  I  will  dwell  in  the 
house  of  the  Lord  for  ever.' ' 

Somehow  she  felt  less  lonely  afterward.  God 
was  on  her  side.  He  would  send  her  father  or  Jack 
Roberts. 

Then,  into  her  newborn  calm,  there  came  a  far 
cry  of  agony  that  shattered  it  instantly.  Her  taut 
nerves  gave  way  like  a  broken  bow-string.  Her 
light  body  began  to  shake.  She  leaned  against 
the  cold  rock  wall  in  hysterical  collapse. 

The  voice  of  Dinsmore  boomed  along  the  pas- 
sageway. "It's  a  cougar, girl.  They've  got  a  yell 
like  the  scream  of  lost  souls.  I've  often  heard 
it  here." 

Ramona  knew  he  was  lying,  but  the  sound  of 
his  cheerful  voice  was  something.  She  was  not 
utterly  alone. 

Again  that  shriek  lifted  into  the  night  and 
echoed  up  the  canon.  The  girl  covered  her  ears 
with  her  hands  and  trembled  violently.  A  shot 
rang  out  from  the  other  end  of  the  passage. 

"Saw  one  of  'em  movin'  down  below,"  the  out- 
law called  to  her. 

But  Ramona  did  not  hear  him.  She  had 
fainted. 


CHAPTER  XLI 

HOMING  HEARTS 

JACK  crept  closer,  very  carefully.  He  was  mor- 
ally certain  that  the  defenders  held  the  ledge,  but 
it  would  not  do  to  make  a  mistake.  Lives  were 
at  stake  —  one  life  much  more  precious  than  his 
own. 

He  drew  his  revolver  and  snaked  forward. 
There  was  nothing  else  to  do  but  take  a  chance. 
But  he  meant  at  least  to  minimize  it,  and  cer- 
tainly not  to  let  himself  be  captured  alive. 

It  was  strange  that  nobody  yet  had  challenged 
him.  He  was  close  enough  now  to  peer  into  the 
darkness  of  the  tunnel  between  the  boulders  and 
the  wall.  There  seemed  to  be  no  one  on  guard. 

He  crept  forward  to  the  last  boulder,  and  his 
boot  pressed  against  something  soft  lying  on  the 
ground.  It  moved.  A  white,  startled  face  was 
lifted  to  his  —  a  face  that  held  only  the  darkness 
of  despair. 

He  knelt,  put  down  his  revolver,  and  slipped 
an  arm  around  the  warm  young  body. 

"Thank  God!"  he  cried  softly.  He  was  trem- 
bling in  every  limb.  Tears  filled  his  voice.  And  over 
and  over  again  he  murmured,  "Thank  God!  .  .  . 
Thank  God!" 

The  despair  in  the  white  face  slowly  dissolvedc 


Oh,  You  Tex!  303 

He  read  there  doubt,  a  growing  certainty,  and 
then  a  swift,  soft  radiance  of  joy  and  tears. 

"  I' prayed  for  you,  and  you've  come.  God  sent 
you  to  me.  Oh,  Jack,  at  last ! " 

Her  arms  crept  round  his  neck.  He  held  her 
close  and  kissed  the  sweet  lips  salt  with  tears  of 
happiness. 

He  was  ashamed  of  himself.  Not  since  he  had 
been  a  little  boy  had  he  cried  till  now.  His  life  had 
made  for  stoicism.  But  tears  furrowed  down  his 
lean,  brown  cheeks.  The  streak  in  him  that  was 
still  tender-hearted  child  had  suddenly  come  to 
the  surface.  For  he  had  expected  to  find  her  dead 
at  best;  instead,  her  warm,  soft  body  was  in  his 
arms,  her  eyes  were  telling  him  an  unbelievable 
story  that  her  tongue  as  yet  could  find  no  words 
to  utter.  There  flamed  in  him,  like  fire  in  dead 
tumbleweeds,  a  surge  of  glad  triumph  that  inex- 
plicably blended  with  humble  thankfulness. 

To  her  his  emotion  was  joy  without  complex. 
The  Ranger  was  tough  as  a  hickory  withe.  She 
knew  him  hard  as  tempered  steel  to  those  whom 
he  opposed,  and  her  heart  throbbed  with  excite- 
ment at  his  tears.  She  alone  among  all  women 
could  have  touched  him  so.  It  came  to  her  like  a 
revelation  that  she  need  never  have  feared.  He 
was  her  destined  mate.  Across  that  wide  desert 
space  empty  of  life  he  had  come  straight  to  her 
as  to  a  magnet. 

And  from  that  moment,  all  through  the  night, 


304  Oh,  You  Tex! 

she  never  once  thought  of  being  afraid.  Her  man 
was  beside  her.  He  would  let  no  harm  come  to 
her.  Womanlike,  she  exulted  in  him.  He  was  so 
lithe  and  brown  and  slender,  so  strong  and  clean, 
and  in  all  the  world  there  was  nothing  that  he 
feared. 

With  her  hand  in  his  she  walked  through  the 
passage  to  where  Dinsmore  held  watch.  The  out- 
law turned  and  looked  at  the  Ranger.  If  anybody 
had  told  him  that  a  time  would  come  when  he 
would  be  glad  to  see  Tex  Roberts  for  any  pur- 
pose except  to  fight  him,  the  bandit  would  have 
had  a  swift,  curt  answer  ready.  But  at  sight  of 
him  his  heart  leaped.  No  hint  of  this  showed  in 
his  leathery  face. 

"  Earnin'  that  dollar  a  day,  are  you?  "  he  jeered. 

"A  dollar  a  day  an'  grub,"  corrected  Jack, 
smiling. 

"Much  of  a  posse  with  you?" 

"Dropped  in  alone.  My  men  are  camped  a  few 
miles  back.  Mr.  Wadley  is  with  us." 

"They  got  Gurley,  I  reckon.  He  tried  to  sneak 
away."  Dinsmore  flashed  a  quick  look  toward 
Ramona  and  back  at  Jack.  "Leastways  I'm  not 
bettin'  on  his  chances.  Likely  one  of  the  Taches 
shot  him." 

"Mebbeso." 

The  girl  said  nothing.  She  knew  that  neither 
of  the  men  believed  Gurley  had  been  shot.  Those 
horrible  cries  that  had  come  out  of  the  night  had 


Oh,  You  Tex!  305 

been  wrung  from  him  by  past-masters  in  the  busi- 
ness of  torture. 

"  You  'd  better  get  back  an'  hold  the  other  end 
of  the  passage,"  suggested  Dinsmore.  He  jerked 
his  head  toward  'Mona.  "  She  '11  show  you  where." 

Ramona  sat  beside  her  lover  while  he  kept 
watch,  her  head  against  his  shoulder,  his  arm 
around  her  waist.  Beneath  the  stars  that  were 
beginning  to  prick  through  the  sky  they  made 
their  confessions  of  love  to  each  other.  She  told 
him  how  she  had  tried  to  hate  him  because  of 
her  brother  and  could  not,  and  he  in  turn  told 
her  how  he  had  thought  Arthur  Ridley  was  her 
choice. 

"I  did  think  so  once  —  before  I  knew  you," 
she  admitted,  soft  eyes  veiled  beneath  long  lashes. 
"Then  that  day  you  fought  with  the  bull  to  save 
me:  I  began  to  love  you  then." 

They  talked  most  of  the  night  away,  but  in  the 
hours  toward  morning  he  made  her  lie  down  and 
rest.  She  protested  that  she  couldn't  sleep;  she 
would  far  rather  sit  beside  him.  But  almost  as 
soon  as  her  head  touched  the  saddle  she  was 
asleep. 

A  little  before  dawn  he  went  to  waken  her.  For 
a  moment  the  soft  loveliness  of  curved  cheek  and 
flowing  lines  touched  him  profoundly.  The  spell 
of  her  innocence  moved  him  to  reverence.  She 
was  still  a  child,  and  she  was  giving  her  life  into 
his  keeping. 


306  Oh,  You  Tex! 

The  flush  of  sleep  was  still  on  her  wrinkled 
cheek  when  she  sat  up  at  his  touch. 

"The  Apaches  are  climbing  up  the  boulder 
field,"  he  explained.  "I  didn't  want  to  waken 
you  with  a  shot." 

She  stood  before  him  in  shy,  sweet  surrender, 
waiting  for  him  to  kiss  her  before  he  took  his 
post.  He  did. 

"It's  goin'  to  be  all  right,"  he  promised  her. 
"We'll  drive  'em  back  an'  soon  yore  father  will 
be  here  with  the  men." 

"I'm  not  afraid,"  she  said  —  "not  the  least 
littlest  bit.  But  you're  not  to  expose  yourself." 

"They  can't  hit  a  barn  door  —  never  can.  But 
I'll  take  no  chances,"  he  promised. 

During  the  night  the  Apaches  had  stolen  far 
up  the  boulder  bed  and  found  cover  behind 
quartz  slabs  which  yielded  them  protection  as 
good  as  that  of  the  white  man  above.  They  took 
no  chances,  since  there  was  plenty  of  time  to  get 
the  imprisoned  party  without  rushing  the  fort. 
Nobody  knew  they  were  here.  Therefore  nobody 
would  come  to  their  rescue.  It  was  possible  that 
they  had  food  with  them,  but  they  could  not 
have  much  water.  In  good  time  —  it  might  be 
one  sleep,  perhaps  two,  possibly  three  —  those 
on  the  ledge  must  surrender  or  die.  So  the  In- 
dians reasoned,  and  so  the  Ranger  guessed  that 
they  would  reason. 

Jack  lay  behind  his  rocks  as  patiently  as  the 


Oh,  You  Tex  307 

savages  did.  Every  ten  or  fifteen  minutes  he  fired 
a  shot,  not  so  much  with  the  expectation  of  hit- 
ting one  of  the  enemy  as  to  notify  his  friends 
where  he  was.  Above  the  caiion  wall  opposite  the 
sun  crept  up  and  poured  a  golden  light  into  the 
misty  shadows  of  the  gulch.  Its  shaft  stole  farther 
down  the  hillside  till  it  touched  the  yellowing 
foliage  of  the  cottonwoods. 

Up  the  canon  came  the  sudden  pop  —  pop  — 
pop  of  exploding  rifles.  Drifted  up  yells  and 
whoops.  The  Indians  hidden  in  the  rock  slide 
began  to  appear,  dodging  swiftly  down  toward 
the  trees.  Jack  let  out  the  "Hi-yi-yi"  of  the  line- 
rider  and  stepped  out  from  the  boulders  to  get 
a  better  shot.  The  naked  Apaches,  leaping  like 
jack-rabbits,  scurried  for  cover.  Their  retreat 
was  cut  off  from  the  right,  and  they  raced  up  the 
gorge  to  escape  the  galloping  cowboys  who  swung 
round  the  bend.  One  of  the  red  men,  struck  just 
as  he  was  sliding  from  a  flat  rock,  whirled,  plunged 
down  headfirst  like  a  diver,  and  disappeared  in 
the  brush. 

Jack  waited  to  see  no  more.  He  turned  and 
walked  back  into  the  cave  where  his  incompara- 
ble sweetheart  was  standing  with  her  little  fingers 
clasped  tightly  together. 

"It's  all  over.  The  Taches  are  on  the  run," 
he  told  her. 

She  drew  a  deep,  long  breath  and  trembled 
into  his  arms. 


308  Oh,  You  Tex! 

There  Clint  Wadley  found  her  five  minutes 
later.  The  cattleman  brushed  the  young  fellow 
aside  and  surrounded  his  little  girl  with  rough 
tenderness.  Jack  waited  to  see  no  more,  but  joined 
Dinsmore  outside. 

After  a  long  time  Wadley,  his  arm  still  around 
Ramona,  joined  them  on  the  ledge. 

"Boys,  I'm  no  hand  at  talkin',"  he  said  hus- 
kily. "I  owe  both  of  you  a  damned  sight  more 
than  I  can  ever  pay.  I'll  talk  with  you  later, 
Jack.  What  about  you,  Dinsmore?  You're  in  one 
hell  of  a  fix.  I  '11  get  you  out  of  it  or  go  broke." 

"What  fix  am  I  in?"  demanded  the  outlaw 
boldly.  "They  ain't  got  a  thing  on  me  —  not  a 
thing.  Suspicions  are  n't  proof." 

The  Ranger  said  nothing.  He  knew  that  the 
evidence  he  could  give  would  hang  Dinsmore  be- 
fore any  Panhandle  jury,  and  now  his  heart  was 
wholly  on  the  side  of  the  ruffian  who  had  saved 
the  life  of  his  sweetheart.  None  the  less,  it  was 
his  duty  to  take  the  man  in  charge  and  he  meant 
to  do  it. 

"Hope  you  can  make  yore  side  of  the  case 
stick,  Dinsmore.  I  sure  hope  so.^  Anyway,  from 
now  on  I'm  with  you  at  every  turn  of  the  road," 
the  cattleman  promised. 

"Much  obliged,"  answered  the  outlaw  with  a 
lift  of  his  lip  that  might  have  been  either  a  smile 
or  a  sneer. 

"You've  been  trailin'  with  a  bad  outfit.  You're 


Oh,  You  Tex!  309 

a  stire-enough  wolf,  I  Ve  heard  tell.  But  you  're  a 
man  all  the  way,  by  gad." 

"Did  you  figure  I  was  yellow  like  Steve, 
Clint?  Mebbe  I'm  a  bad  hombre  all  right.  But 
you've  known  me  twenty  years.  What  license 
have  you  ever  had  to  think  I'd  leave  a  kid 
like  her  for  the  'Paches  to  play  with?"  The  hard 
eyes  of  the  outlaw  challenged  a  refutation  of  his 
claim. 

"None  in  the  world,  Homer.  You're  game. 
Nobody  ever  denied  you  guts.  An'  you  're  a  bet- 
ter man  than  I  thought  you  were." 

Dinsmore  splattered  the  face  of  a  rock  witii 
tobacco  juice  and  his  stained  teeth  showed  in  a 
sardonic  grin. 

"I've  got  a  white  black  heart,"  he  jeered. 


CHAPTER  XLII 

A  DIFFERENCE  OF  OPINION 

RESCUED  and  rescuers  rode  out  of  the  canon  as 
soon  as  the  Apaches  had  been  driven  away.  No- 
body suggested  that  the  Indians  who  had  been 
killed  in  the  surprise  attack  be  buried.  The  bodies 
were  left  lying  where  they  had  fallen.  For  in 
those  days  no  frontiersman  ever  buried  a  dead  red- 
skin. If  the  body  happened  to  be  inconveniently 
near  a  house,  a  mounted  cowboy  roped  one  foot 
and  dragged  it  to  a  distance.  Those  were  the  years 
when  all  settlers  agreed  that  the  only  good  Indian 
was  a  dead  Indian.  The  Indian  wars  are  over  now, 
and  a  new  generation  can  safely  hold  a  more  hu- 
mane view;  but  old-timers  in  the  Panhandle  will 
tell  you  to-day  that  the  saying  was  literally  true. 

The  little  group  of  riders  drew  out  of  the  gorge 
and  climbed  the  shale  slide  to  the  plain  above. 
Roberts  rode  knee  to  knee  with  Dinsmore.  On 
the  other  side  of  the  outlaw  was  Jumbo.  The  man 
between  them  still  carried  his  rifle  and  his  re- 
volver, but  he  understood  without  being  told 
that  he  was  a  prisoner. 

Wadley  dropped  back  from  his  place  beside 
Rarnona  and  ranged  up  beside  the  officer. 

"What  are  you  aimin'  to  do  with  him,  Jack?'* 
he  asked  in  a  low  voice. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  311 

"I'm  goin'  to  turn  him  over  to  Cap  Ellison." 

The  cattleman  pondered  that  awhile  before  he 
continued.  "  'Mona  has  been  tellin'  me  about 
you  an'  her,  Jack.  I  ain't  got  a  word  to  say  — 
not  a  word.  If  you're  the  man  she  wants,  you're 
sure  the  man  she'll  get.  But  I  want  to  tell  you 
that  you're  a  lucky  young  scamp.  You  don't  de- 
serve her.  I  've  got  to  see  the  man  yet  that  does." 

"We're  not  goin'  to  quarrel  about  that,  Mr. 
Wadley,"  agreed  Jack.  "I'm  no  thin'  but  a  rough 
cowboy,  an'  she 's  the  salt  of  the  earth.  I  don't 
see  what  she  sees  in  me." 

"H'm!"  grunted  the  owner  of  the  A  T  O,  and 
looked  at  the  lithe,  brown,  young  fellow,  supple 
as  a  whip  and  strong  as  tested  steel.  It  was  not 
hard  to  understand  what  a  girl  saw  in  him.  "  Glad 
you  got  sense  enough  to  know  that." 

"I'm  not  a  plumb  fool,  you  know." 

Clint  changed  the  subject  apparently.  "Boy, 
I  've  been  in  hell  ever  since  Sullivan  rode  in  with 
the  bad  news.  My  God!  how  I  suffered  till  I  saw 
my  little  trick  standing  there  alive  and  well." 

The  Ranger  nodded.  He  thought  he  knew 
what  Wadley  was  driving  toward.  But  he  was 
resolved  to  give  him  no  help.  He  must  make  his 
own  plea.  - 

"You  helped  save  her,*  Jack.  That's  all 
right.  I  reckon  you  care  for  her  too.  Any  man 
would  'a'  done  what  you  did.  But  Dinsmore,  he 
did  a  whole  lot  more  'n  you.  When  he  was  hot- 


312  Oh,  You  Tex! 

footing  it  to  escape  from  you,  he  turned  round 
an'  started  to  bring  her  back  to  the  ranch.  Steve 
Gurley,  he  said  to  take  'Mona  along  with  'em 
to  the  canon.  You  know  what  that  hellhound 
meant.  But  Dinsmore  would  n't  stand  for  that. 
He  said  she  was  entitled  to  be  took  home.  Well, 
you  know  how  the  Taches  cut  'em  off." 

:'Yes.  That's  how  we  figured  it  out,"  said 
Roberts. 

"Her  hawss  stepped  into  a  prairie-dog  hole 
an'  broke  its  leg.  Dinsmore  stopped  an'  swung 
her  up  behind  him,  the  Taches  gainin'  every 
jump  of  the  road.  Oncet  they  reached  Palo  Duro 
he  stood  off  the  devils  till  she  reached  the 
ledge.  Jack,  we're  lucky  that  a  man  like  Homer 
Dinsmore  was  beside  her  yesterday,  don't  you 
reckon?" 

"I  reckon."  Tiny  beads  of  sweat  stood  on  the 
forehead  of  the  boy.  He  knew  now  what  was 
coming. 

"Good  enough.  Well,  Jack,  I  reckon  we  cayn't 
take  Dinsmore  in  to  be  hanged.  That  would  n't 
be  human,  would  it?" 

The  roof  of  the  Ranger's  mouth  was  dry.  He 
looked  away  across  the  rolling  waves  of  prairie 
while  the  cattleman  waited  for  his  answer.  Every 
impulse  of  desire  in  him  leaned  toward  the  ar- 
gument Wadley  was  making.  His  love  for  Ra- 
mona,  his  gratitude  to  Dinsmore,  his  keen  desire 
to  in@et  halfway  the  man  who  was  to  be  Ms 


Oh,  You  Tex!  313 

father-in-law  and  had  accepted  the  prospect  so 
generously,  his  boyish  admiration  for  the  thing 
that  the  outlaw  had  done,  all  tugged  mightily 
at  him. 

"An'  look  a-here,"  went  on  the  cattleman, 
"you  got  to  keep  in  mind  that  you  never  would 
'a'  got  Dinsmore  this  trip  in  kingdom  come  if  he 
hadn't  stopped  to  save  'Mona.  He'd  'a'  kep' 
right  up  the  canon  till  he  was  sure  enough  lost. 
It  would  be  a  damned  mean  trick  for  you  to 
take  a  man  in  to  be  hanged  because  he  had  risked 
his  life  to  save  the  girl  you  claim  to  love." 

"You  make  me  feel  like  a  yellow  hound,  Mr. 
Wadley,"  admitted  Roberts.  "But  what  am  I 
to  do?  When  I  joined  the  Rangers  I  swore  to  en- 
force the, law.  You  know  how  it  is  in  the  force. 
We've  got  no  friends  when  we're  sent  out  to  get 
a  man.  I'd  bring  in  my  own  brother  if  he  was 
wanted.  That's  why  the  Texas  Rangers  stack  up 
so  high.  They  play  no  favorites  an'  they  let  no 
prisoners  escape.  You're  askin'  me  to  throw 
down  Cap  Ellison  who  trusts  me,  the  State  that 
pays  me,  the  boys  on  the  force  that  pal  with  me, 
an'  my  loyalty  to  the  people.  You  want  me  to  do 
it  because  I've  got  a  personal  reason  to  wish 
Dinsmore  to  get  away.  If  I  don't  take  him  in  to 
town  I'm  a  traitor.  That 's  the  long  an'  the  short 
of  it." 

"Hell's  blazes!"  broke  in  the  cattleman.  "I 
thought  you  was  a  man  an'  not  a  machine.  You 


314  Oh,  You  Tex! 

want  to  marry  my  liT  girl,  but  you're  not  williri" 
to  do  a  favor  to  the  man  who  has  just  saved  her 
from  a  hundred  horrible  deaths.  Have  n't  you 
any  guts  in  you  a-tall?" 

The  muscles  stood  out  on  the  lean,  set  face  of 
the  Ranger  like  rawhide  ropes.  "I  can't  lie  down 
on  my  job.  Ramona  would  n't  ask  it  of  me.  I've 
got  to  go  through.  That 's  what  I  'm  paid  for." 

"She 's  askin'  it  right  now.  Through  me." 

"Then  she  doesn't  understand  what  she's 
askin'.  Let  me  talk  with  her.  Let  me  explain  — " 

"We  don't  want  any  of  yore  damned  explana- 
tions," interrupted  Wadley  roughly.  "Talk  tur- 
key. Will  you  or  won't  you?  Me,  I  ain't  plumb 
crazy  about  law.  It's  justice  I  want  done.  I  '11  be 
doggoned  if  I'm  goin'  to  stand  by  an'  let  any 
harm  come  to  Dinsmore  —  not  this  here  year 
of  our  Lord." 

"I  '11  do  all  I  can  for  him—  " 

"Except  that  you're  bound  an'  determined  to 
see  him  hanged.  You  sure  beat  my  time.  I'd 
think  you  would  be  right  anxious  to  tell  him  to 
cut  his  stick  —  kinda  slide  out  inconspicuous 
when  we  ain't  watchin'.  Be  reasonable,  Roberts. 
That 's  all  I  ask.  I  want  to  be  yore  friend  if  you  '11 
let  me.  My  bank 's  behind  you  to  back  any  busi- 
ness proposition  you  want  to  start.  Or  that  job 
I  offered  you  before  is  open  to  you.  After  a  little 
we  can  fix  up  some  kind  of  a  partnership." 

The  dark  color  burned  under  the  tan  of  the 


Oh,  You  Tex!  315 

Ranger's  face.  His  lips  were  like  a  steel  trap,  and 
in  his  eyes  there  was  a  cold  glitter.  "It  does  n't 
get  you  anywhere  to  talk  thataway  to  me,  Mr. 
Wadley.  I'd  want  to  marry  Miss  Ramona  just 
the  same  if  she  was  the  poorest  girl  in  the  Pan- 
handle. Offer  me  a  deed  to  the  A  T  O  an'  it 
would  n't  make  any  difference  to  me.  I  'm  not 
goin'  to  turn  Dinsmore  loose  because  it 's  to  my 
advantage." 

"  Don't  get  on  the  prod,  young  fellow.  I  was  n  t 
try  in'  to  bribe  you.  I  was  showin'  you  how  I  felt. 
But  you're  so  damned  high-headed  a  plain  man 
can't  talk  sense  to  you."  The  impulsive  anger  of 
the  old  Texan  suddenly  ripped  out.  "Hell,  I'm 
not  goin'  to  beg  you  to  do  what  yore  own  de- 
cency ought  to  tell  you  right  away.  But  I  '11  say 
this  right  off  the  reel:  neither  'Mona  nor  I  want 
to  have  a  thing  to  do  with  a  man  who 's  so  selfish 
he  can't  yield  the  first  favor  she  ever  asked  of 
him.  We're  through  with  you." 

The  two  men  had  fallen  back  of  the  others  and 
were  riding  alone.  Now  the  young  Texan  looked 
hard  at  the  old-timer.  The  eyes  of  neither  of 
them  gave  way  even  for  a  beat  of  the  lashes. 

"I'll  have  to  hear  Miss  Ramona  say  that 
before  it  goes  with  me,"  answered  Roberts 
steadily. 

"All  right.  You  can  hear  it  right  this  minute.' 
The  cattleman  touched  his  horse  with  the  spur 
and  cantered  forward. 


316  Oh,  You  Tex! 

The  Ranger  was  with  him  when  they  drew  up 
beside  Ramona.  The  smile  in  the  eyes  of  the  girl 
died  away  as  she  looked  first  at  one  and  then  at 
the  other  of  them.  She  was  sensitive  to  atmos- 
pheres, and  if  she  had  not  been  the  harsh  surface 
of  both  of  them  would  have  been  evidence  enough 
of  a  clash. 

"Ramona,"  began  her  father,  "this  fellow  here 
is  a  Ranger  first  an'  a  human  bein'  afterward. 
He's  hell-bent  on  takin'  Dinsmore  to  prison  so 
as  to  make  a  big  name  for  himself.  I  've  told  him 
how  we  feel,  an'  he  says  that  does  n't  make  any 
difference  a-tall,  that  Dinsmore 's  got  to  hang." 

"That  is  n't  what  I  meant  a-tall,"  explained 
Jack.  "I've  been  tryin'  to  tell  yore  father  that 
I'd  give  an  arm  to  turn  him  loose.  But  I  can't. 
It  would  n't  be  right." 

The  soft  eyes  of  the  girl  pleaded  with  her  lover. 
"I  think  we  ought  to  free  him,  Jack.  He  saved 
my  life.  He  fought  for  me.  Nobody  could  have 
done  more  for  me.  He  ...  he  was  so  good  to  me." 
Her  voice  broke  on  the  last  sentence. 

The  young  man  swallowed  a  lump  in  his  throat. 
"I  wish  I  could.  But  don't  you  see  I  can't?  I'm 
not  Jack  Roberts,  the  man  who  .  <, .  who  cares 
for  you.  I'm  an  officer  of  the  State  sent  out  to 
bring  in  this  man  wanted  for  a  crime.  I  've  got 
to  take  him  in." 

"But  he  saved  my  life,"  she  said  gently,  puz- 
sded  at  his  queer  point  of  view.  "He  stayed  with 


Oh,  You  Tex!  317 

me  when  he  could  easily  have  escaped.  You 
would  n't . .  .  take  advantage  of  that.  Jack?" 

"I'll  give  every  dollar  I've  got  hi  the  world  to 
clear  him,  'Mona.  I'll  fight  for  him  to  a  finish. 
But  I  've  got  to  take  him  to  town  an'  put  him  in 
jail.  If  I  don't  I  can't  ever  hold  up  my  head 
again,"  he  told  her  desperately. 

"I  thought  you  loved  me,  Jack,"  she  mur- 
mured, through  gathering  tears. 

"What  kind  of  a  man  would  I  be  for  you  to 
marry  if  I  threw  down  on  what  was  right  just  be- 
cause you  asked  me  to  an'  I  wanted  to  do  it?  " 
he  demanded. 

"He's  got  his  neck  bowed,  'Mona.  I  told  him 
how  we  felt,  but  he  would  n't  believe  me.  I  reckon 
he  knows  now,"  her  father  said. 

"You're  not  goin'  to  throw  me  over  because 
I  Ve  got  to  do  what  I  think  right,  'Mona?  "  asked 
Jack  miserably. 

"I ...  I'm  not  throwing  you  over.  It's  you. 
You're  throwing  me  over.  Don't  you  see  that 
we've  got  to  help  Mr.  Dinsmore  because  he  did 
so  much  for  me? " 

"  Certainly  I  see  that.  I  '11  resign  from  the  Ran- 
gers, and  then  we'll  all  pull  together  for  him, 
'Mona." 

"After  you've  pulled  on  the  rope  that  hangs 
him,"  added  Clint  angrily.  "Nothin'  to  that, 
'Mona.  He 's  for  us  or  he 's  against  us.  Let  him 
say  which  right  now." 


318  Oh, You  Tex! 

The  girl  nodded,  white  to  the  lips. 

"Do  you  mean  that  you'll  give  me  up  unless 
I  let  Dinsmore  escape  before  we  reach  town?" 
asked  the  young  man. 

"I ...  I've  got  to  save  him  as  he  did  me.  If 
you  won't  help,  it 's  because  you  don't  love  me 
enough,"  she  faltered. 

"I  can't,"  the  boy  cried. 

"'Nough  said,"  cut  in  Wadley.  "You've  got 
yore  answer,  'Mona,  an'  he 's  got  his." 

Jack  stiffened  in  the  saddle.  His  hard  eyes 
bored  straight  into  those  of  his  sweetheart. 
"Have  I?"  he  asked  of  her. 

The  girl  nodded  and  turned  her  head  away 
with  a  weak,  little  gesture  of  despair.  Her  heart 
was  bleeding  woe. 

The  Ranger  wheeled  on  his  horse  and  galloped 
back  to  his  place  beside  Dinsmore. 


CHAPTER  XLIII 

TEX  RESIGNS 

JACK  ROBERTS,  spurs  jingling,  walked  into  the 
office  of  his  chief. 

Ellison  looked  up,  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and 
tugged  at  his  goatee.  "Well,  Tex,  you  sure  were 
thorough.  Four  men  in  the  Dinsmore  outfit,  an' 
inside  o'  two  days  three  of  'em  dead  an'  the  fourth 
a  prisoner.  You  hit  quite  a  gait,  son." 

"I've  come  to  resign,"  announced  the  younger 
man. 

"  Well,  I  kinda  thought  you  'd  be  resignin'  about 
now,"  said  the  Captain  with  a  smile.  "Weddin' 
bells  liable  to  ring  right  soon,  I  reckon." 

"Not  mine,"  replied  Roberts. 

Somehow,  in  the  way  he  said  it,  the  older  man 
knew  that  the  subject  had  been  closed. 

"Goin'  to  take  that  job  Clint  offered  you?" 

"No."  Jack  snapped  out  the  negative  curtly, 
explosively. 

Another  topic  closed. 

"Just  quittin'.  No  reasons  to  offer,  son?" 

"Reasons  a-plenty.  I've  had  man-huntin' 
enough  to  last  me  a  lifetime.  I'm  goin'  to  try 
law-breakin'  awhile  for  a  change." 

"Meanin'?" 

"You  can  guess  what  I  mean,  Captain,  an*  if 


320  Oh,  You  Tex! 

you're  lucky  you'll  guess  right.  Point  is,  I'm 
leavin'  the  force  to-day." 

"Kinda  sudden,  ain't  it,  Tex?" 

"At  six  o'clock  to-night.  Make  a  note  of  the 
time,  Captain.  After  that  I'm  playin'  my  own 
hand.  Understand?" 

"I  understand  you're  sore  as  a  thumb  with  a 
bone  felon.  Take  yore  time,  son.  Don't  go  off 
half-cocked."  The  little  Captain  rose  and  put 
his  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  the  boy.  "I  reckon 
things  have  got  in  a  sort  of  kink  for  you.  Give  'em 
time  to  unravel,  Tex." 

The  eyes  of  the  Ranger  softened.  "I've  got 
mothin'  against  you,  Captain.  You're  all  there. 
We  won't  go  into  any  whyfors,  but  just  let  it  go 
as  it  stands.  I  want  to  quit  my  job  —  right  away. 
This  round-up  of  the  Dinsmores  about  cleans  the 
Panhandle  anyhow." 

"You're  the  doctor,  Tex.  But  why  not  take 
yore  time?  It  costs  no  thin'  Mex  to  wait  a  day  or 
two  an'  look  around  you  first." 

"I've  got  business  —  to-night.  I'd  rather  quit 
when  I  said." 

"What  business?"  asked  Ellison  bluntly. 
"You  mentioned  lawbreakin'.  Aimin'  to  shoot 
up  the  town,  are  you?  " 

"At  six  to-night,  Captain,  my  resignation  takes 
effect." 

The  little  man  shrugged.  "I  hear  you,  Jack. 
You  go  off  the  pay-roll  at  six.  I  can  feel  it  in  my 


Oh,  You  Tex!  321 

bones  that  you  're  goin'  to  pull  off  some  fool  busi- 
ness. Don't  run  on  the  rope  too  far,  Jack.  Every- 
body that  breaks  the  law  looks  alike  to  my  boys, 


son.': 


"I'll  remember." 

"Good  luck  to  you."  Ellison  offered  his  hand. 

Roberts  wrung  it. "  Same  to  you,  Cap.  So  long." 

The  young  man  walked  downtown,  ate  his 
dinner  at  the  hotel,  and  from  there  strolled  down 
to  the  largest  general  store  in  town.  Here  he 
boughtsupplies  enough  to  last  for  a  week  —  flour, 
bacon,  salt,  sugar,  tobacco,  and  shells  for  rifle 
and  revolvers.  These  he  carried  to  his  room, 
where  he  lay  down  on  the  bed  and  read  a  month- 
old  Trinidad  paper. 

Presently  the  paper  sagged.  He  began  to  nod, 
fell  asleep.  When  he  opened  his  eyes  again  it  was 
late  in  the  afternoon.  His  watch  told  him  that  it 
was  just  six  o'clock. 

He  got  up,  took  off  the  buckskin  suit  that  had 
served  him  for  a  uniform,  and  donned  once  more 
the  jeans  and  chaps  he  had  worn  as  a  line-rider. 

"Good-bye,  Mr.  Ranger,"  he  told  himself.  "I 
reckon  you  can't  have  much  worse  luck  as  a  citi- 
zen than  as  an  officer." 

He  buckled  round  his  waist  the  belt  that  held 
his  revolvers,  and  from  the  corner  of  the  room 
where  it  stood  took  his  rifle.  Carrying  the  sup- 
plies he  had  that  afternoon  bought,  he  directed 
his  steps  to  the  Elephant  Corral  and  saddled  his 


Oh,  You  Tex! 

horse.  With  motions  of  deft  economy  he  packed 
the  provisions  for  travel,  then  swung  to  the  sad- 
dle and  cantered  down  the  street. 

At  the  post-office  corner  he  swung  to  the  left 
for  a  block  and  dismounted  in  front  of  a  rather 
large  dugout. 

A  wrinkled  little  man  with  a  puzzled,  lost- 
puppy  look  on  his  face  sat  on  a  bench  in  front 
mending  a  set  of  broken  harness. 

"  'Lo,  Tex.  How  they  comin'?  "  he  asked. 

"'Lo,  Yorky.  Hope  I  see  you  well,"  drawled 
the  horseman,  a  whimsical  twitch  of  humor  at 
the  corner  of  his  mouth.  He  was  swinging  his 
lariat  carelessly  as  cowboys  do. 

"  Jes'  tol'able.  I  got  a  misery  in  my  left  shoul- 
der I'm  a-goin'  to  try  some  yerbs  I  done  had 
recommended."  Yorky  was  the  kind  of  simple 
soul  who  always  told  you  just  how  he  was  when 
you  asked  him. 

Roberts  passed  him  and  led  the  way  into  the 
house.  "  Come  inside,  Yorky,  I  want  to  talk  with 
you,"  he  said. 

The  room  into  which  the  cowboy  had  passed 
was  a  harness  shop.  It  was  littered  with  saddles 
and  bridles  and  broken  bits  of  traces.  A  work- 
man's bench  and  tools  were  in  one  corner  of  the 
shop.  A  door,  bolted  and  padlocked,  led  to  a  rear 
room. 

Jack  put  down  his  rifle  and  his  belt  on  a  shelf 
and  sat  down  on  the  bench. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  323 

"Yore  prisoner's  in  there  all  right,"  said  the 
saddler  with  a  jerk  of  his  thumb  over  his  left 
shoulder. 

Since  no  one  else  in  town  would  take  the  place, 
Yorky  had  been  unanimously  chosen  jailer.  He 
did  not  like  the  job,  but  it  gave  him  an  official 
importance  that  flattered  his  vanity. 

"He 's  not  my  prisoner  any  more,  Yorky.  He 's 
yours.  I  quit  being  a  Ranger  just  twenty-five 
minutes  ago." 

"You  don't  say!  Well,  I  reckon  you  done  wise. 
A  likely  young  fellow  — " 

"Where's  yore  six-shooter?"  demanded  Jack. 

Yorky  was  a  trifle  surprised.  "You're  sittin' 
on  it,"  he  said,  indicating  the  work  bench. 

Roberts  got  up  and  stood  aside.  "  Get  it." 

The  lank  jaw  of  the  jailer  hung  dolefully.  He 
rubbed  its  bristles  with  a  hand  very  unsure  of 
itself. 

"Now,  you  look  a-hyer,  Tex.  I'm  jailer,  I  am. 
I  don't  allow  to  go  with  you  to  bring  in  no  bad- 
man.  Nothin'  of  that  sort.  It  ain't  in  the  con- 
tract." 

"I'm  not  askin'  it.  Get  yore  gat." 

The  little  saddler  got  it,  though  with  evident 
misgivings. 

The  brown,  lean  young  man  reseated  himself 
on  the  bench.  "I've  come  here  to  get  yore  pris- 
oner," he  explained. 

"Sure,"  brightened  the  jailer.  "Wait  till  I  get 


324  Oh,  You  Tex! 

my  keys."  He  put  the  revolver  down  on  the  ta- 
ble and  moved  toward  the  nail  on  which  hung 
two  large  keys. 

"I'm  just  through  tellin'  you  that  I'm  no 
longer  a  Ranger,  but  only  a  private  citizen." 

Yorky  was  perplexed.  He  felt  he  was  not  get- 
ting the  drift  of  this  conversation.  "Well,  an'  I 
done  said,  fine,  a  young  up  V  comin'  fellow  like 
you—" 

"You've  got  no  business  to  turn  yore  prisoner 
over  to  me,  Yorky.  I  'm  not  an  officer." 

"Oh,  tha's  all  right.  Anything  you  say,  Tex." 

"I'm  goin'  to  give  him  my  horse  an'  my  guns 
an'  tell  him  to  hit  the  trail." 

The  puzzled  lost-dog  look  was  uppermost  on 
the  wrinkled  little  face  just  now.  Yorky  was 
clearly  out  of  his  depth.  But  of  course  Jack 
Roberts,  the  best  Ranger  in  the  Panhandle,  must 
know  what  he  was  about. 

"Suits  me  if  it  does  you,  Tex,"  the  saddler 
chirped. 

"No,  sir.  You've  got  to  make  a  fight  to  hold 
Dinsmore.  He 's  wanted  for  murder  an'  attempted 
robbery.  You're  here  to  see  he  does  n't  get 
away." 

"Make  a  fight!  You  mean  . . .  fight  you?" 

"That's  just  what  I  mean.  I'm  out  of  reach 
of  my  gats.  Unhook  yore  gun  if  I  make  a  move 
toward  you." 

Yorky  scratched  his  bewildered  head.  This 


Oh,  You  Tex!  325 

certainly  did  beat  the  Dutch.  He  looked  help- 
lessly at  this  brown,  lithe  youth  with  the  well- 
packed  muscles. 

"I'll  be  doggoned  if  I  know  what 's  eatin'  you, 
Tex.  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  fight  you  none  a-tall." 

"You  bet  you  are!  I've  warned  you  because  I 
don't  want  to  take  advantage  of  you,  since  I've 
always  had  the  run  of  the  place.  But  you're 
jailer  here.  You  've  got  to  fight  —  or  have  every- 
body in  town  say  you  're  yellow." 

A  dull  red  burned  into  the  cheeks  of  the  little 
man.  "I  don't  aim  for  to  let  no  man  say  that, 
Tex." 

"That's  the  way  to  talk,  Yorky.  I've  got  no 
more  right  to  take  Dinsmore  away  than  any 
other  man."  Jack  was  playing  with  his  lariat. 
He  had  made  a  small  loop  at  one  end  and  with 
it  was  swinging  graceful  ellipses  in  the  air.  "Don't 
you  let  me  do  it." 

Yorky  was  nervous,  but  decided.  "I  ain't 
a-goin'  to,"  he  said,  and  the  revolver  came  to  a 
businesslike  position,  its  nose  pointed  straight 
for  Roberts. 

The  gyrations  of  the  rope  became  more  active 
and  the  figures  it  formed  more  complex. 

"Quit  yore  foolin',  Tex,  an'  get  down  to  cases. 
Dad-gum  yore  hide,  a  fellow  never  can  tell  what 
you  honest-to-God  mean." 

The  rope  snaked  forward  over  the  revolver 
and  settled  on  the  wrist  of  the  jailer.  It  tight- 


326  Oh,  You  Tex! 

ened,  quicker  than  the  eye  could  follow.  Jack 
jerked  the  lariat  sideways  and  plunged  forward. 
A  bullet  crashed  into  the  wall  of  the  dugout. 

The  cowboy's  shoulder  pinned  the  little  man 
against  the  bolted  door.  One  hand  gave  a  quick 
wrench  to  the  wrist  of  the  right  arm  and  the  re- 
volver clattered  to  the  puncheon  floor.  The  two 
hands  of  the  jailer,  under  pressure,  came  together. 
Round  them  the  rope  wound  swiftly. 

"I've  got  you,  Yorky.  No  use  strugglin'.  I 
don't  want  to  start  that  misery  in  yore  shoulder," 
warned  Jack. 

The  little  saddler,  tears  of  mortification  in  his 
eyes,  relaxed  from  his  useless  efforts.  Jack  had  no 
intention  of  humiliating  him  and  he  proceeded 
casually  to  restore  his  self-respect. 

"You  made  a  good  fight,  Yorky,  —  a  blamed 
good  fight.  I  won  out  by  a  trick,  or  I  never  could 
'a'  done  it.  Listen,  old-timer.  I  plumb  had  to  play 
this  low-down  trick  on  you.  Homer  Dinsmore 
saved  Miss  Wadley  from  the  Taches.  He  treated 
her  like  a  white  man  an'  risked  his  life  for  her. 
She 's  my  friend.  Do  you  reckon  I'd  ought  to  let 
Hnihang?" 

"Why  n't  you  tell  me  all  that?"  complained 
.he  man-handled  jailer. 

"Because  you're  such  a  tender-hearted  old 
geezer,  Yorky.  Like  as  not  you  would  'a'  thrown 
open  the  door  an'  told  me  to  take  him.  You  had 
to  make  a  fight  to  keep  him  so  they  could  n't  say 


Oh,  You  Tex!  327 

you  were  in  cahoots  with  me.  I'm  goin'  to  jail  for 
this  an'  I  don't  want  comp'ny." 

Jack  trussed  up  his  friend  comfortably  with 
the  slack  of  the  rope  so  that  he  could  move  nei- 
ther hands  nor  feet. 

From  the  nail  upon  which  the  two  keys  hung 
the  jail-breaker  selected  one.  He  shot  back  the 
bolts  of  the  inner  door  and  turned  the  key. 


CHAPTER  XLIV 

DINSMOEE  GIVES  INFORMATION 

THE  inner  room  was  dark,  and  for  a  moment 
Jack  stood  blinking  while  his  eyes  accustomed 
themselves  to  the  gloom. 

A  voice  growled  a  question  at  him.  "What  do 
you  want  now,  Mr.  Grandstander?  " 

"I  want  you." 

"What  for?" 

"You'll  find  out  presently.  Come  along." 

For  a  moment  Dinsmore  did  not  move.  Then 
he  slouched  forward.  He  noticed  that  the  Ran- 
ger was  not  armed.  Another  surprise  met  him 
when  he  stepped  into  the  outer  room.  The  jailer 
lay  on  the  floor  bound. 

The  outlaw  looked  quickly  at  Roberts,  a  ques- 
tion in  his  eyes.  Jack  unlocked  his  handcuffs. 
They  had  been  left  on  him  because  the  jail  was 
so  flimsy. 

"  My  rifle  an'  six-shooters  are  on  the  shelf  there, 
Dinsmore.  A  horse  packed  with  grub  is  waitin' 
outside  for  you.  Make  for  the  short-grass  coun- 
try an'  cross  the  line  about  Deaf  Smith  County 
to  the  Staked  Plains.  I  reckon  you'll  find  friends 
on  the  Pecos." 

"Yes?"  asked  Dinsmore,  halfway  between  in- 
solence and  incredulity. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  329 

"That's  my  advice.  You  don't  need  to  take  it 
if  you  don't  want  to." 

"Oh,  it  listens  good  to  me.  I'll  take  it  all  right, 
Mr.  Ranger.  There  are  parties  in  Mexico  that 
can  use  me  right  now  at  a  big  figure.  The  Lincoln 
County  War  is  still  goin'  good."  The  bad-man 
challenged  Roberts  with  bold  eyes.  "But  what 
I'm  wonderin'  is  how  much  Clint  Wadley  paid 
you  to  throw  down  Cap  Ellison." 

The  anger  burned  in  Jack's  face.  "Damn  you, 
Dinsmore,  I  might  'a'  known  you'd  think  some- 
thin'  like  that.  I'll  tell  you  this.  I  quit  bein'  a 
Ranger  at  six  o'clock  this  evenin',  an'  I  have  n't 
seen  or  heard  from  Wadley  since  I  quarreled  with 
him  about  you." 

"So  you're  turnin'  me  loose  because  you're  so 
fond  of  me.  Is  that  it?  "  sneered  the  outlaw. 

"I'll  tell  you  just  why  I'm  turnin'  you  loose, 
Dinsmore.  It 's  because  for  twenty-four  hours  in 
yore  rotten  life  you  were  a  white  man.  When  I 
was  sleepin'  on  yore  trail  you  turned  to  take  Miss 
Wadley  back  to  the  A  T  O.  When  the  Taches 
were  burnin'  the  wind  after  you  an'  her,  you  turned 
to  pick  her  up  after  she  had  fallen.  When  you 
might  have  lit  out  up  the  canon  an'  left  her  alone, 
you  stayed  to  almost  certain  death.  You  were 
there  all  the  time  to  a  fare-you-well.  From  that 
one  good  day  that  may  take  you  to  heaven  yet,  I 
dragged  you  in  here  with  a  rope  around  yore 
neck.  I  had  to  do  it,  because  I  was  a  Ranger.  But 


$30  Oh,  You  Tex! 

Wadley  was  right  when  he  said  it  was  n't  human. 
I'm  a  private  citizen  now,  an'  I'm  makin'  that 
wrong  right." 

"You'd  ought  to  go  to  Congress.  You  got  the 
gift,"  said  Dinsmore  with  dry  irony.  Five  min- 
utes earlier  he  had  been,  as  Roberts  said,  a  man 
with  a  rope  around  his  neck.  Now  he  was  free, 
the  wide  plains  before  him  over  which  to  roam. 
He  was  touched,  felt  even  a  sneaking  gratitude 
to  this  young  fellow  who  was  laying  up  trouble 
for  himself  on  his  account;  and  he  was  ashamed 
of  his  own  emotion. 

"I'll  go  to  jail;  that 's  where  I'll  go,"  answered 
Jack  grimly.  "But  that 's  not  the  point." 

"I'll  say  one  thing,  Roberts.  I  didn't  kill 
Hank.  One  of  the  other  boys  did.  It  can't  do 
him  any  harm  to  say  so  now,"  muttered  Dinsmore 
awkwardly. 

"I  know.  Overstreet  shot  hinio" 

"That  was  just  luck.  It  might  have  been  me." 

Jack  looked  straight  and  hard  at  him.  "Will 
you  answer  me  one  question?  Who  killed  Ruther- 
ford Wadley?" 

"Why  should  I?"  demanded  the  bad-man,  his 
eyes  as  hard  and  steady  as  those  of  the  other  man. 

"Because  an  innocent  man  is  under  a  cloud. 
You  know  Tony  did  n't  kill  him.  He 's  just  been 
married.  Come  clean,  Dinsmore." 

"As  a  favor  to  you,  because  of  what  you're 
doin'  for  me?" 


Oh,  You  Tex!  331 

"I'm  not  doin'  this  for  you,  but  to  satisfy  my- 
self. But  if  you  want  to  put  it  that  way  — " 

"  Steve  Gurley  shot  Ford  because  he  could  n't 
be  trusted.  The  kid  talked  about  betrayin'  us  to 
Ellison.  If  Steve  had  n't  shot  him  I  would  have 
done  it." 

"But  not  in  the  back,"  said  Jack. 

"No  need  o'  that.  I  could  'a'  gunned  him  any 
time  in  a  fair  fight.  We  followed  him,  an'  before 
I  could  stop  him  Gurley  fired." 

The  line-rider  turned  to  the  jailer.  "You  heard 
what  he  said,  Yorky." 

"I  ain't  deef,"  replied  the  little  saddler  with 
sulky  dignity.  His  shoulder  was  aching  and  he 
felt  very  much  outraged. 

"Ford  Wadley  was  a  bad  egg  if  you  want  to 
know.  He  deserved  just  what  he  got,"  Dinsmore 
addeoL 

"I  don't  care  to  hear  about  that.  Yore  horse  is 
waitin',  Dinsmore.  Some  one  might  come  along 
an'  ask  inconvenient  whyfors.  Better  be  movin' 
along." 

Dinsmore  buckled  the  belt  round  his  waist  and 
picked  up  the  rifle. 

"Happy  days,"  he  said,  nodding  toward  Jack, 
then  turned  and  slouched  out  of  the  door. 

A  moment,  and  there  came  the  swift  clatter  of 
hoofs. 


CHAPTER  XLV 

EAMONA  DESERTS  HER  FATHER 

ARTHUR  RIDLEY,  seated  on  the  porch  between 
Clint  Wadley  and  Ramona,  was  annoying  one 
and  making  himself  popular  with  the  other.  For 
he  was  maintaining,  very  quietly  but  very  stead- 
ily, that  Jack  Roberts  had  been  wholly  right  in 
refusing  to  release  Dinsmore. 

"Just  as  soon  as  you  lads  get  to  be  Rangers 
you  go  crazy  with  the  heat,"  said  the  cattleman 
irritably.  "Me,  I  don't  go  down  on  my  ham  bones 
for  the  letter  of  the  law.  Justice!  That's  what  I 
aim  for  to  do.  I  don't  say  you  boys  have  n't  got  a 
right  to  sleep  on  Dinsmore's  trail  till  you  get  him. 
That 's  yore  duty.  But  out  here  in  Texas  we  'd 
ought  to  do  things  high,  wide,  an'  handsome. 
Roberts,  by  my  way  of  it,  should  have  shook 
Homer's  hand.  'Fine!  You  saved  'Mona's  life. 
Light  a  shuck  into  a  chaparral  pronto.  In  twelve 
hours  I'm  goin'  to  hit  the  trail  after  you  again.' 
That 's  what  he  had  ought  to  have  said." 

'You're  asking  him  to  be  generous  at  the  ex* 
pense  of  the  State,  Mr.  Wadley.  Jack  could  n't 
do  that.  Dinsmore's  liberty  was  n't  a  gift  of  his 
to  give.  He  was  hired  by  the  State  —  sent  out 
to  bring  in  that  particular  man.  He  had  n't  any 
choice  but  to  do  it,"  insisted  Arthur. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  333 

Ramona  sat  in  the  shadow  of  the  honeysuckle 
vines.  She  did  not  say  anything  and  Ridley  could 
not  see  her  face  well.  He  did  not  know  how  grate- 
ful she  was  for  his  championship  of  his  friend. 
She  knew  he  was  right  and  her  heart  throbbed 
gladly  because  of  it.  She  wanted  to  feel  that  she 
and  her  father  were  wrong  and  had  done  an  in 
justice  to  the  man  she  loved. 

Captain  Ellison  came  down  the  walk,  his  spurs 
jingling.  In  spite  of  his  years  the  little  officer 
carried  himself  jauntily,  his  wide  hat  tilted  at  a 
rakish  angle.  Just  now  he  was  worried. 

As  soon  as  he  knew  the  subject  of  conversa- 
tion, he  plunged  in,  a  hot  partisan,  eager  for  bat- 
tle. Inside  of  two  minutes  he  and  Wadley  were 
engaged  in  one  of  their  periodical  semi-quarrels. 

"You're  wrong,  Clint,"  the  Captain  announced 
dogmatically.  "You're  wrong,  like  you  'most  al- 
ways are.  You're  that  bullheaded  you  cayn't  see 
it.  But  I'm  surprised  at  you,  'Mona.  If  Jack  had 
been  a  private  citizen,  you  would  n't  needed  to 
ask  him  to  turn  loose  Dinsmore.  But  he  was  n't. 
That 's  the  stuff  my  Rangers  are  made  of.  They 
play  the  hand  out.  The  boy  did  just  right." 

"That's  what  you  say,  Jim.  You  drill  these 
boys  of  yours  till  they  ain't  hardly  human.  I  'm 
for  law  an'  order.  You  know  that.  But  I  don't  go 
out  of  my  head  about  them  the  way  you  do. 
'Mona  an'  I  have  got  some  sense.  We  're  reason- 
able human  bein's."  To  demonstrate  his  posses- 


334  Oh,  You  Tex! 

sion  of  this  last  quality  Clint  brought  his  fist 
down  on  the  arm  of  the  chair  so  hard  that  it 
cracked. 

From  out  of  the  darkness  Ramona  made  her 
contribution  in  a  voice  not  quite  steady. 

"We're  wrong,  Dad.  We've  been  wrong  all  the 
time.  I  did  n't  see  it  just  at  first,  and  then  I  did 
n't  want  to  admit  it  even  to  myself.  But  I'm 
glad  now  we  are."  She  turned  to  Captain  Ellison 
a  little  tremulously.  "Will  you  tell  him,  Uncle 
Jim,  that  I  want  to  see  him?" 

"You're  a  little  gentleman,  'Mona.  I  always 
said  you  were."  The  Captain  reached  out  and 
pressed  her  hand.  "I'll  tell  him  when  I  see  him. 
No  tellin'  when  that'll  be.  Jack  resigned  to-day. 
He's  got  some  fool  notion  in  his  head.  I'm  kinda 
worried  about  him." 

The  girl's  heart  fluttered.  "Worried?  What 
.  .  .  what  do  you  think  he's  going  to  do?" 

The  Captain  shook  his  head.  "Cayn't  tell 
you,  because  I  don't  know.  But  he 's  up  to  some- 
thin'.  He  acted  kinda  hard  an'  bitter." 

A  barefooted  negro  boy  called  in  from  the 
gate.  "Cap'n  Ellison  there,  sah?" 

He  brought  a  note  in  and  handed  it  to  the 
officer  of  Rangers.  The  Captain  ripped  open  the 
envelope  and  handed  the  sheet  inside  to  Ramona. 

"Run  along  in  an'  read  it  for  me,  honey.  It's 
too  dark  to  see  here." 

The  girl  ran  into  the  house  and  lit  a  lamp. 


Oh,  You  Tex!  335 

The  color  washed  out  of  her  face  as  she  read  the 
note. 

Come  up  to  the  hotel  and  arrest  me,  Captain.  I  held  up 
Yorky,  took  his  keys,  and  freed  Dinsmore. 

JACK  ROBERTS 

Then,  in  jubilant  waves,  the  blood  beat  back 
into  her  arteries.  That  was  why  he  had  resigned, 
to  pay  the  debt  he  owed  Homer  Dinsmore  on  her 
account.  He  had  put  himself  within  reach  of  th& 
law  for  her  sake.  Her  heart  went  out  to  him  in 
a  rush.  She  must  see  him.  She  must  see  him  at 
once. 

From  the  parlor  she  called  to  Captain  Ellison. 
"You'd  better  come  in  and  read  the  note  your- 
self. Uncle  Jim.  It's  important." 

It  was  so  important  to  her  that  before  the 
Captain  of  Rangers  was  inside  the  house,  she  was 
out  the  back  door  running  toward  the  hotel  as 
fast  as  her  lithe  limbs  could  carry  her.  She  wanted 
to  see  Jack  before  his  chief  did,  to  ask  his  for- 
giveness for  having  failed  him  at  the  first  call  that 
came  upon  her  faith. 

She  caught  up  with  the  colored  boy  as  he  went 
whistling  up  the  road.  The  little  fellow  took  a 
message  for  her  into  the  hotel  while  she  waited  in 
the  darkness  beside  the  post-office.  To  her  there 
presently  came  Roberts.  He  hesitated  a  moment 
in  front  of  the  score  and  peered  into  the  shadows. 
She  had  not  sent  her  name,  and  it  was  possible 
that  enemies  had  decoyed  him  there. 


336  Oh,  You  Tex! 

"Jack,"  she  called  in  a  voice  that  was  almost 
a  whisper. 

In  half  a  dozen  long  strides  he  was  beside  her. 
She  wasted  no  time  in  preliminaries. 

"We  were  wrong,  Dad  and  I.  I  told  Uncle  Jim 
to  tell  you  to  come  to  me  .  .  .  and  then  your  note 
to  him  came.  Jack,  do  you  .  .  .  still  like  me?" 

He  answered  her  as  lovers  have  from  the  be- 
ginning of  time  —  with  kisses,  with  little  joyous 
exclamations,  with  eyes  that  told  more  than 
words.  He  took  her  into  his  arms  hungrily  in  an 
embrace  of  fire  and  passion.  She  wept  happily, 
and  he  wiped  away  Her  tears. 

They  forgot  time  in  eternity,  till  Ellison 
brought  them  back  to  earth.  He  was  returning 
from  the  hotel  with  Wadley,  and  as  he  passed 
they  heard  him  sputtering. 

"Why  did  he  send  for  me,  then,  if  he  meant 
to  light  out?  What  in  Sam  Hill  —  ?" 

Jack  discovered  himself  to  the  Captain,  and 
incidentally  his  sweetheart. 

"Well,  I'll  be  doggoned!"  exclaimed  Ellison. 
"You  youngsters  sure  beat  my  time.  How  did 
you  get  here,  'Mona?" 

Clint  made  prompt  apologies.  "I  was  wrong, 
boy.  I  'd  ought  to  know  it  by  this  time,  for  they  Ve 
all  been  dinnin'  it  at  me.  Shake,  an'  let's  make 
a  new  start." 

In  words  it  was  not  much,  but  Jack  knew  by 
the  way  he  said  it  that  the  cattleman  meant  a 


Oh,  You  Tex!  337 

good  deal  more  than  he  said.  He  shook  hands 
gladly. 

"Looks  to  me  like  Jack  would  make  that  new 
start  in  jail,"  snapped  the  Captain.  "I  don't 
expect  he  can  go  around  jail-breaking  with  my 
prisoners  an'  get  away  with  it." 

"I'll  go  to  jail  with  him,  then,"  cried  'Mona 
quickly. 

"H'mp!"  The  Ranger  Captain  softened.  "It 
would  n't  be  a  prison  if  you  were  there,  honey." 

Jack  slipped  his  hand  over  hers  in  the  semi- 
darkness.  "You're  whistlin',  Captain." 

"I  reckon  you  'n'  me  will  take  a  trip  down  to 
Austin  to  see  the  Governor,  Jim,"  Wadley  said. 
"Don't  you  worry  any  about  that  prison, 
'Mona." 

The  girl  looked.up  into  the  eyes  of  her  lover. 
"We're  not  worrying  any,  Dad,"  she  answered, 
smiling. 


CHAPTER  XLVI 

LOOSE  THREADS 

THE  Governor  had  been  himself  a  cattleman. 
Before  that  he  had  known  Ellison  and  Wadley 
during  the  war.  Therefore  he  lent  a  friendly  ear 
to  the  tale  told  him  by  his  old-time  friends. 

Clint  did  most  of  the  talking,  one  leg  thrown 
across  the  arm  of  a  leather-bound  chair  in  the 
library  of  the  Governor's  house.  The  three  men 
were  smoking.  A  mint  julep  was  in  front  of  each. 

The  story  of  Jack  Roberts  lost  nothing  in  the 
telling.  Both  of  the  Panhandle  men  were  now 
partisans  of  his,  and  when  the  owner  of  the  A  T  O 
missed  a  point  the  hawk-eyed  little  Captain  was 
there  to  stress  it. 

"That's  all  right,  boys,"  the  Governor  at  last 
broke  in.  "I  don't  doubt  he's  all  you  say  he  is, 
but  I  don't  see  that  I  can  do  anything  for  him. 
If  he's  in  trouble  because  he  deliberately  helped 
a  murderer  to  escape  — " 

"You  don't  need  to  do  a  thing,  Bob,"  inter- 
rupted Wadley.  "That's  just  the  point.  He's  in 
no  trouble  unless  you  make  it  for  him.  All  you  've 
got  to  do  is  shut  yore  eyes,  I  spent  three  hours 
with  a  pick  makin'  a  hole  in  the  jail  wall  so  as  it 
ivould  look  like  the  prisoner  escaped.  I  did  a  real 
thorough  job.  Yorky,  the  jailer,  won't  talk.  We 


Oh,  You  Tex!  339 

got  that  all  fixed.  There'll  be  no  trouble  a-tall 
unless  you  want  the  case  against  Jack  pushed." 

"What  was  the  use  of  comin'  to  me  at  all, 
then?  Why  did  n't  you  boys  keep  this  under  your 
hats?"  the  Governor  asked. 

Wadley  grinned.  "Because  of  Jim's  conscience. 
You  see,  Bob,  he  fills  his  boys  up  with  talk  abouf 
how  the  Texas  Rangers  are  the  best  police  forc^ 
in  the  world.  That  morale  stuff!  Go  through  an' 
do  yore  duty.  Play  no  favorites  an'  have  no 
friends  when  you're  on  the  trail  of  a  criminal. 
Well,  he  cayn't  ignore  what  young  Roberts  has 
done.  So  he  passes  the  buck  to  you." 

The  Governor  nodded  appreciation  of  Ellison's 
dfficulty.  "All  right,  Jim.  You've  done  your  duty 
in  reporting  it.  Now  I'll  forget  all  about  it.  You 
boys  go  home  and  marry  those  young  people 
soon  as  they're  ready." 

The  Panhandle  cattleman  gave  a  whoop. 
"That'll  be  soon  as  I  can  draw  up  partnership 
papers  for  me  'n'  Jack  as  a  weddin'  present  for 
him  an'  Mona." 

They  were  married  at  Clarendon.  All  the  im- 
portant people  of  the  Panhandle  attended  the 
wedding,  and  it  was  generally  agreed  that  no 
better-looking  couple  ever  faced  the  firing  line  of 
a  marriage  ceremony. 

There  was  a  difference  of  opinion  as  to  whether 
the  ex-line-rider  deserved  his  good  luck.  Jumbo 


340  Oh,  You  Tex! 

Wilkins  was  one  of  those  who  argued  mightily 
that  there  was  no  luck  about  it. 

"That  doggoned  Tex  wore  his  bronc  to  a 
shadow  waitin'  on  Miss  'Mona  an'  rescuin'  her 
from  trouble.  She  plumb  had  to  marry  him  to  git 
rid  of  him,"  he  explained.  "I  never  saw  the  beat 
of  that  boy's  gall.  Six  months  ago  he  was  ridin' 
the  line  with  me.  Now  he's  the  segundo  of  the 
whole  outfit  an'  has  married  the  daughter  of  the 
boss  to  boot." 

Jumbo  was  on  hand  with  a  sack  of  rice  and  an 
old  shoe  when  the  bride  and  groom  climbed  into 
the  buckboard  to  drive  to  the  ranch.  His  admi- 
ration found  vent  in  one  last  shout  as  the  horses 
broke  into  a  run: 

"Oh,  you  Tex!  Let 'em  go,  son!" 


THE  END 


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NOVELS  OF  FRONTIER  LIFE  BY 

WILLIAM  MACLEOD   RAINE 

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MAVERICKS 

A  tale  of  the  western  frontier,  where  the  "  rustler  "  abounds.    One  of  the  sweettsi 
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A  TEXAS  RANGER 

How  a  member  of  the  border  police  saved  the  life  of  an  innocent  man,  followed  £ 
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In  this  vivid  story  the  author  brings  out  the  turbid  life  of  the  frontier  with  all  its 
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RIDGWAY  OF  MONTANA 

The  «cene  is  laid  in  the  mining  centers  of  Montana,  where  politics  and  mining  in- 
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BUCKY  O'CONNOR 

Every  chapter  teems  with  wholesome,  stirring  adventures,  replete  with  the  dashing 
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CROOKED  TRAILS  AND  STRAIGHT 

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BRAND  BLOTTERS 

A  story  of  the  turbid 
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STEVE  YEAGER 

A  story  brimful  of  excitement,  with  enough  gun-play  and  adventure  to  suit  anyone. 
A  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  DONS 

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THE  HIGHGRADER 

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A  crisply  entertaining  love  story  in  the  land  where  might  makes  right. 
THE  VISION  SPLENDID 

In  which  two  cousins  are  contestants  for  tke  same  prizes  ;  political  honors  and  the 
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THE   SHERIFF'S  SON 

The  hero  finally  conquers  both  himself  aud  his  -nemies  and  wins  the  love  of  a 
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KINDRED  OF  THE  DUST 

Donald  McKay,  son  of  Hector  McKay,  millionaire  lum- 
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charming  girl  who  has  been  ostracized  by  her  townsfolk 

THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS   ' 

The  fight  of  the  Cardigans,  father  and  son,  to  hold  the 
Valley  of  the  Giants  against  treachery.  The  reader  finishes 
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GAPPY  RICKS 

The  story  of  old  Cappy  Ricks  and  of  Matt  Peasley,  the 
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WEBSTER:  MAN'S  MAN 

In  a  little  Jim  Crow  Republic  in  Central  America,  a  man 
and  a  woman,  hailing  from  the  "  States,"  met  up  with  a 
revolution  and  for  a  while  adventures  and  excitement  came 
so  thick  and  fast  that  their  love  affair  had  to  wait  for  a  lull 
in  the  game. 

CAPTAIN  SCRAGGS 

This  sea  yarn  recounts  the  adventures  of  three  rapscal- 
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FHE  LONG  CHANCE 

A  story  fresh  from  the  heart  of  the  West,  of  San  Pasqual 
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Dr.  Virginia  Page  is  forced  to  go  with  the  sheriff  on  a  night  journey 
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DESERT  VALLEY 

A  college  professor  sets  out  with  his  daughter  to  find  gold.  They  meet 
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MAN  TO  MAN 

Encircled  with  enemies,  distrusted,  Steve  defends  his  rights.  How  he 
won  his  game  and  the  girl  he  loved  is  the  story  filled  with  breathless 
situations. 

THE  BELLS  OF  SAN  JUAN 

Dr.  Virginia  Page  is  forced  to  go  v\ 
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JUDITH  OF  BLUE  LAKE  RANCH 

Judith  Sanford  part  owner  of  a  cattle  ranch  realizes  she  is  being  robbed 
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THE  SHORT  CUT 

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THE  JOYOUS  TROUBLE  MAKER 

A  reporter  sets  up  housekeeping  close  to  Beatrice's  Ranch  much  to  her 
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out  as  it  should  in  this  tale  of  romance  and  adventure. 

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Beatrice  Waverly  is  robbed  of  $5,000  and  suspicion  fastens  upon  Buck 
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real  story  of  the  Great  Far  V/est. 

WOLF  BREED 

No  Luck  Drennan  had  grown  hard  through  loss  of  faith  in  men  he  had 
trusted.  A  woman  hater  and  sharp  of  tongue,  he  finds  a  match  in  Ygerne 
whose  clever  fencing  wins  the  admiration  and  love  of  the  "  Lone  Wolf." 

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THE  UN,VERS,TV  OF  CAUFORN.A  L.BRARV 


